


The Five Fan Drum

by A_ripple_untoward



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Dean, Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Beta Sam, Beta Sam Winchester, Dean/Castiel - Freeform, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Multi, Mystery, Mythology Crossover, Other, Some Fluff, a/b/o dynamics, white wolf games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-25 18:08:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6205402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_ripple_untoward/pseuds/A_ripple_untoward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each ounce froze - Shuddered and stilled. This wasn't like being high, or being terrified, or jumping from a cliff. This truly, wholeheartedly was realizing the potential for the end. He thought when it would be over, he would be seeing fire and then zip, Billy would pluck him up and that'd be that. But not like this. Not with the sunset shining through the trees. Not with the fire in someone else's eyes.</p><p>Rated Mature for Future Content. AU post-Amara and post latest season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Way Out but Down

* * *

 

* * *

 

" _I am become Air. Gasping, Choking - sighed."_

The words knocked around his head - faint, then loud like a swinging pendulum. No dreams, just tossing and turning. His room, sparsely decorated but moderately lived in, felt smaller than usual. Sam sat up, raking his hands over his face, through his hair.

He rose, tugging his pajama bottoms over sharp hip bones. He rarely headed outside, safe in the Bunker as he was, but tonight his feet just itched. Knowing the sound of the door would probably rouse his brother, the younger Winchester opted for it anyway. He opted also to take a gun, and a beer.

_"Gasping, Choking - sighed."_

It was a warm night. He came up through one of the side exits, a small, obscured thing. Had a nice view,once one perched along a retaining wall. Sam settled in to the list of voices in his head - old friends, enemies, trying to pinpoint who could have spoken the words. Female, airy, raspy. Not in the sensual way. A raw way.

The door behind him opened. Sam went for the gun, but stilled soon after.

"Please don't tell me you came out here to make a wish…"

Rolling his eyes, Sam snorted. "Hardly," he swallowed, looking up at the sky. It wasn't even that clear a night.

Dean settled in along the concrete wall, pulling out a flask. "So what's got you out here moping?"

A shrug. A responding nudge.

"I've been… I dunno, Dean. Remember that hunt we had, down in South Carolina?With the Daeva and the Banshee? After that I just… Keep hearing ' _I am become air'. Gasping, Choking, Sighed'_. Only when I'm asleep though, or when it's quiet and dark,"

"Sammy that was nearly a month ago, what the hell?" Dean was frowning, twisting around to look at his brother fully now. "So, what, is this you telling me you're Fruit Loopy, or are we still at the normal level of Coo Coo for Cocoa Puffs?"

" _Dude."_

"Alright, Alright," Dean sighed. No poking the bear tonight, it seemed. "Should we call Cas in on this, or something?"

"No, not necessary," Sam said with a shake of his head. "No point, anyway. What's gonna happen, put in another wall?" He snorted softly.

 

* * *

 

Flies buzzed around the carcass. Neck twisted back, abdomen torn, the doe was sprawled out and forgotten. Her eyes were bloodshot, vessels snapped, petechial. Nothing seemed taken, or eaten. Just… ruined. Eyes wide, mouth open. Colin stood a ways away from it, nose curled. His brother, Rhys, had his mouth covered. Between themselves and the other three with them, disgust and curiosity hung in the air.

"No sense wastin' a whole deer like this…" Rhys grimaced, turning away.

His alpha brother spit to the side. "Wasn't a waste. They meant to leave this."

He bent down, grunting somewhat as his knee clicked. sniffed the air around the doe. Rhys began to pace. Odette, standing some ways away, rubbed her temple. The witch sighed, gently catching Rhys by his arm as he passed, stilling him for the moment. His pacing wasn't helping.

"This is the fourth one in two weeks," she said softly. Colin and she knew the magnitude of such a sign. Such a speech trapped in the carcass, a warning and a promise wrapped beneath blood-soaked fur.

"We gotta tell Alma," Rhys said, his eyes on his brother now. "We gotta call in fer help, Colin. You know it."

Slowly, the alpha rose. Stared his brother down in contemplation. Rhys took a step back, averting his gaze to stare at Colin's mouth, not his eyes. "They're getting closer," the oemga said softly. "The line won't hold up much longer if they were able to drop this off this far in."

"They had to run back out, though," Colin muttered, finally looking away from Rhys and then around. "Yeah, we'll… we'll call out. Tell everybody, so whoever don't wanna be seen ain't gotta be."

And with that, he headed in the woods, intent on finding some kind of trail.

Rhys shivered once Colin had left, rubbing his arms before raking his hands through his hair. "Odie, who you thinkin' we should call?"

The witch shrugged. "Oh, there's a really good option, yanno. The lanky wolf from out west. He used to hunt, though."

"Yeah, but… Ain't that what we need?"

"Colin won't like it…" Rhys glanced back at the deer. Took another step away. "But it's gotta be done. Only option really."

"It's not up to just him. Take it to the rest of the Elders, will ya? I'm gonna take care of… her," she nodded to the deer, before cracking her knuckles.

 

* * *

  

Sam didn't sleep much the rest of the night. He eventually wound up in the main room of the Bunker, books scattered aimlessly with beer bottles. His laptop hummed quietly, nothing but an empty search bar glaring back. The Younger Winchester sighed, nails scratched over stubble.

The biggest annoyance to a person with intellect was never finding the answers to questions, after all.

"Sammy!" Dean bellowed, careening suddenly into the room. He came upon a startled Sam, the sound of a bottle clanging still ringing in the room. "Uh…" Dean took in the sight, slowing to a halt. He then blinked, decided not to ask, and continued. "Just got a call with Garth. Says he needs help with some case in bum-fuck Kentucky or somethin'."

"He's hunting?" Sam asked incredulously. "Thought he -"

"Says it's a favor or something, But he wants to meet up with us, give us the rundown in person." He shrugged. "Sounds weird, if you ask me. We haven't heard from him in months, and out of the blue we get to play Dukes of Hazzard?"

Sam snorted. "Well...guess we better get there, then."

Less than an hour later, the impala was racing down the road. They sat in comfortable, class-rock-fueled silence. It wasn't until they reached the Kentucky Border that Sam spoke up. "Did Garth go into any detail?" 

"Not really. Something about how we were definitely not going to like the sounds of it, but he had no one else he could trust."

Sam sighed through his nose.

 

* * *

 

Pulling into Blacksburg, they found a hotel, then went to the diner Garth had instructed to meet at. He was already inside, tucked in the back of the empty place. Sam almost had an impression Garth had planned for it that way. He smiled, drumming his fingers on the table as the brothers slid into the opposite booth. The waitress came over, took their orders and shuffled off.

"You didn't waste time getting here," Garth teased, face washing over with relief. His shoulders remained tense, though.

Dean arched his brow and made a sweeping gesture, as if it had been out of his way and eating up his time to be there. Never-Don't give Garth shit, after all. "Alright, so, I have a friend, Rhys, lives out in Virginia…. North Carolina, around there. He lives with his pack, and a few others. So they've been having some trouble, and honestly I can't think of what it could be." He sighed. "There's no reason they should be… getting attacked like they are."

Sam snorted, crossing his arms. "Well it's a pack in the boonies, Garth. Could just be locals."

Garth shook his head. "No, the place is different. They're not in the open, they're protected by their own juju. There's witches there, and fae, and-"

"Wait, fae?" Dean asked. "As in _Faeries_?"

Garth shook his head, then he nodded. "No - well. Like… not what you've ever encountered. They're full-fledged people-lookin' dudes. But they don't mess with anything. They're not the problem. It's just gotten weird. I told Rhys I'd go help, but I kinda need back up. And, since you two have been holed up in your batcave for the past few weeks, figured you might want in on something different."

Dean and Sam exchanged glances. Garth hadn't really given them much. "So a bunch of magical hillbillies… need help? He clarified slowly. Their friend nodded just as. Dean paused as their food and coffee was brought over, but his suspicion had him almost without appetite. He dug in anyway.

Wrinkling his nose at his brother's "table manners", Sam looked back and… Garth was digging in just as quick. "Um… okay. So how far away is it from, here? This homestead?"

Garth coughed, laughing after he swallowed. "Oh hell no, don't call it that," he said, amused. "You'll get kicked for that. It's a commune, dude. Not a homestead. They have power and internet and all that."

"Thank god - how else am I going to keep up with all of my gardening blogs?" Dean asked through his mouthful.

"It's about three hours from here. Then another hour's walk. Unless… you're okay with taking Precilla there," he jabbed his fork towards the impala. "Up dirt and gravel."

Dean's eyes widened, and he looked at the sleek exterior. Just imagining all the pings, dings, an scrapes… He shrugged dismissively. "Poppin' dents is like bad acne compared to what she's seen - _and her name isn't Precilla_."

Garth snickered, sighing wistfully. "Man, I missed this. This is gonna be fun. Can't wait to get on the road!"

Sam grinned a little then. "Oh, so you're gonna come with us?"

"All the way, baby. Just call me Home Base."

Dean choked on his coffee. "So, how's Bess…?"

 

* * *

 

Garth hadn't been exaggerating about the drive. It took them almost 4 hours, weaving through millennia-old mountains. Despite having a view of Garth's sad car in front, Sam found it an oddly soothing scenery. Things were bright green, sun cut through the gaps. Sure the roads themselves were curvy, but once they opened up into a valley, Sam held his breath.

It was nearly untouched. Until he saw a city in the distance. Dean whistled. "Damn, if I had to say to hell with pants and kick it fuzzy for the rest of my life, this would be the place…"

"We haven't passed a gas station or town or anything in an hour - completely off the grid," Sam mumbled, "It's definitely a good set up… Garth's pulling over."

Dean followed suit, grumbling. "Not lookin' forward to hikin'."

Garth hopped out of his car, grabbed a bag larger than himself, and headed to the impala. Sam was the first out, but as soon as he stood, Garth had tossed his bag into the back and tumbled in. He righted himself, grinning large as Sam confusedly got back in.

"Yeah my car definitely isn't making it," the hunter said matter-of-factly. "Plus this way I can kinda fill you guys in on Blue Ridge…"

Dean got back on the road, wrinkling his nose. "That's the name of Hippiepalooza?"

"Yeah. It's a loose name," Garth said. He hoisted a few books over Sam's shoulder. "Gah - Garth! Same struggled to keep everything from spilling everywhere.

"Basically the place is the supernatural equivalent to that bunker you all are in. They've got it warded with some seriously ancient stuff. Need an invite and everything. If I'm in the car, we should be able to get through just fine."

"What happens if it's _not_ fine?" Dean asked.

"Oh… well then your car's just gonna stop and we'll be up shit creek in the woods."

Dean looked heavenward, blinking several times. "You better hope your invite hasn't expired."

"So it's just wolves, witches, faeries…?" Sam asked, flipping through the pages. It seemed to be what all Garth himself could gather. Maps on notebook paper, quick sketches of faces.

"Yeah. About twenty years back some Vampires tried to burn the place down or something. No one really talks about it. They just call it 'The Darkest Night'. So… don't go poking around, I guess. I don't think it's vampires this time around, anyway."

Sam filed it away in his head for later. Holding up a loose leaf, he squinted as he examined a sketch. "Oh, that's like, the community building. Where all the meetings are held. Crazy parties too. It's got the outdoor pavillion, dance area, tons of seats…"

"Dean, look."

Slowing a bit, Dean glanced over, but he saw all he needed to. Sketched over what had to be the pavilion floor was nothing other than the Aquarian Star.

Maybe Garth was smart to call them, after all.

"... But outside of that there's farms, different kinds of houses. No one really locks their doors and kids run everywhere. It's weird. It's like there all the crap in the real world-"

"Doesn't exist…" Dean finished, now more suspicious. "That means they're hiding something. If this is some weird cult crap, Garth, I swear on your furry ass I'll kick it here to Toronto."

Garth grimaced. "Guess Canada's better than Utah… Here, we wanna take a right up here."

"There's no road."

"Sure there is. Slow it down, alright, alright now turn!"

Dean was amazed Garth hadn't been wrong  For a split second he expected them to pitch down a gully and that be the end of it. A whole orchestrated plan to kill them all. But no, just a steep road, gravel kicking up and dirt pluming up. He was constantly looking from one side to the other, as was Sam. Several No Trespassing signs dotted the road's edge, but Garth waved them off. As the trees began to thin some, Sam swore he could smell wine. Sweet wine.

"That's Elderberries," Garth chirruped, taking in a deep breath himself. "They grow wild through here. Couple people in the Ridge make wine an beer with it, Rhys told me once."

Dean's attentions perked at that. "Wait like, beer that does what beer used to do?"

Garth smirked smugly, and nodded. "Yup. See, trip isn't gonna be so bad. Slow down though, we're about at the gate."

They came upon an old gate a minute later. Old, and open, the wood of it had been reclaimed by kudzu. Sam got out to clear the one side, grunting as he pushed it more into the brush. Standing straight, he looked down the road, slow in getting back in the impala.

" _I am become Air..."_

He plopped down, blinking several times. "Y'okay, Sammy?" Dean asked, an his brother nodded.

"So," Sam cleared his throat. "This pack here… they're not gonna care about two betas and an Alpha rolling in?"

Garth hummed at that, hanging on as the ride became bumpier. "Shouldn't. The pack's pretty accepting, had the same alpha for almost a decade. He's probably gonna hate Dean, though."

Dean scoffed. "I am a delight, this dude's gonna wanna marry me before we leave."

Sam snorted, and Garth rolled his eyes. "Wait 'til y'all- "

" _Ho-ly Christ on a cracker…"_  
  
And just like that, the treeline broke, and the valley shown ahead of them beneath the sunlight.

 

* * *

 

 


	2. This was Business as Usual

 

* * *

* * *

 

Sweeping, that was the first word that came to mind. How everything rolled into a narrow fitted area at the bottom. A hollow-valley steeped in ridges, deep into the mountains. Dean drove slow, taking everything in, trying to count houses, rooftops, anything to get a leg up on his surroundings. There were a few people they passed on the road - riding bikes. A lanky blond and a girl with wild, thick curly hair. As the Impala passed them, the two picked up their pace. Old street lamps sprinkled the ditches, various crops and animals... it really was another little world entirely.

Garth looked back, then smiled. "It's Rhys!" He exclaimed, drumming his hands on the headrest. "Third house up here on the right, Jeeves!"

"Oh c'mon!" Dean groaned, swatting behind him.

That third house wound up being almost a half mile down the road. a Two-story farm house, similar in style to Bobby's, now that Sam thought about it. It definitely had a cabin quality to it. He noted the solar panels on the roof, bottles dangling from the trees and decorating this, that. Once parked off by a large red pick-up, everyone climbed out. Well, Garth scrambled.

Excitedly, he went to meet "Rhys", who let his bike hit the ground unceremoniously on the ground as they embraced. The Winchesters stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do. They knew Garth was a genial, loving guy. But they hadn't seen that kind of expression out of him.

"Figured you wouldn't be gettin' here 'til sundown," Rhys said when they parted. "Lookit you, thought gettin' bit woulda filled you out a bit."

"Just for that I'm eating everything in the house," Garth laughed. Slinging his arm around the slightly shorter wolf's shoulder, he turned to face Dean and Sam. "Guys, this is Rhys Merritt. Local welcome wagon and tour guide. Rhys, this is Sam and Dean."

"The backup," Rhys added, smile broad and warm as he took the two in. He extended his hand. Dean noted how it was callous and strong. The last omega he'd been with definitely didn't have that roughness. He wasn't unhealthy looking, with wild blond hair that whisked around his ears and forehead. His clothing was a t-shirt, torn jeans, and... no shoes. There'd been no radical adjustment of his hair or clothing. He wasn't trying to look attractive, but there was a sweet smell to suggest he still kept himself up. Maybe it was how the blond didn't shy away from either of them. It made Dean curious about the pack structure. Some omegas never greeted first, some tried to be _too_ accommodating.

But, this was the boonies. Rhys probably had a standing.

"Well, let's get all yer stuff in the house, get out a few beers and Ah'll catch y'all up 'til Colin gets here." Him speaking drew Sam and Dean from their second of observation. 

Waving them on, Rhys hopped up the stairs, raked his bare feet along the mat, then let them in. It was brightly lit from the sun, full of shabby furniture and a few new, more modern pieces. Pictures lined the walls and surfaces, as well as strange little this and thats. Sam fanned his hand over a few stones in particular, noting a string of beads fallen around them. Dean stood in the threshold for a moment, adjusting to the overwhelming scent of another alpha, the omega, and what he figured was the rest of the pack in general. He was so used to Sam and his own scents, and it was rare they came into contact with their own kind.

"So, there's a buncha spare rooms all over the place, but no rush," Rhys spoke casually from the kitchen, "Think there's gonna be a party or somethin' later. Anyway, there's wifi and hot water and all the amenities. Figure you'll be able to find whatever in the kitchen you want. Everyone else does..."

Dean's brow knitted, and he swatted Sam on the chest before pointing at the wall. Among the pictures he could clearly see Henry in an old one. He was standing in a group of about ten others. They made a B-line, but Rhys and Garth reappeared with beers.

"Oh, the 'wall o' Merritts," Rhys said with a little laugh. "That's just some old embarrassing pictures we can't take down or my uncle'd have a fit. Sucks too  - perfect place to mount a TV."

"Only takes one family wackadoo to halt progress," Dean said, nodding his head in thanks when he was given a beer. "What's with this picture?"

"Oh that'n? Dunno…" Rhys squinted at it, then shrugged and went to plop down in an old arm chair. "Bones would know, though. You can ask him tonight if ya want."

 _Bones?_ Dean mouthed to Sam, before Sam just shrugged and sat, one on the couch and the other leaning against the windowsill. He sized up the label ,but to his surprise, there wasn't one on the bottle. Sniffing, Dean took a swig, before his eyes went wide.

"Holy shit, this would knock Fezzik on his ass after like, ten."

Sam snorted. "Versus what, the average fifty?" Garth asked.

Rhys bought his legs up, a proud grin on his face. "Colin brews it. We have two kind we send out to a few distributors, but that's the original BR Ale. Best not for human consumption…"

"I will try not to let it go to my head," Dean said, before taking another sip.

"So, Garth said you guys have been having a string of weird things happening," Sam brought everyone back to the topic.

"Oh! Yeah," Rhys nodded. "Past few months we've been findin' slaughtered animals around. First it was a goat here an' there - then it would be birds. Past few weeks it's only been Deer. Thing is, all of these would be along the border. Weren't our animals getting killed off. 'Til the deer, anyway. The goats... musta been snatched up from elsewhere. Odette - she lives right up from us - her herd hasn't been touched.

"What's worrisome is these deer… they're past the boundary. Now unless it's someone in Blue Ridge doin' this - probably ain't - that means something that ain't allowed in… is testin' the boundary. Has a bunch of people scared."

"There weren't any signs of sigils or runes or anything around them," Garth added, glancing at Rhys who nodded. He was starting to get uncomfortable with the conversation. "Just snapped necks, petechial hemorrhage in the eyes… gutted. Real sick stuff. I couldn't think of anything that would do that."

Dean and Sam looked at each other. The eldest arched a brow, the younger frowned, and sighing, Sam looked back at the other two. "It could be a few things. We'll get to the bottom of it."

The sounds of footsteps had the four wolves pausing. heads turned toward the kitchen, the screen door opening. In lumbered a tall, stocky man, beard the width of his chin to his collar bone. Hair mo-hawked, pulled back into a top knot. He smelled of hops and mud. He grabbed a beer, and entered the living room. Piercing blue eyes, a stoic expression. Shoulders sagging from a long day's work; shoulders that popped up instantly when he got a smell of just who was in his living room. The sight of Garth seemed to ease him. Not by much.

"Hey," Rhys said, head tipped back. "These are the guys Garth brought. Sam and Dean." He looked at his guests. "This is Colin. Alpha 'round here."

Colin was quiet, assessing before he went to sit in the other arm chair. It was unclear what he might say, but once he was situated, he relaxed. "Sorry I missed the pre-game…" his voice was low but lilting. "Suppose you're caught up? See Rhys brought out his wagon…"

He looked over at his brother, a soft expression Dean recognized. He gave it to Sam often, when the other wasn't aware.

"Yeah, um - this beer's fantastic, actually," Sam offered. "And we're pretty much caught up, yeah."

"Good," Colin smiled then. Sam couldn't tell if it was forced. It rode the line. "Leaves more room for relaxing. Bones has orchestrated some little shindig down at the pavilion. Was really excited to hear we were getting in some newcomers."

Rising then, he tipped his head. "I'm going to go shower. Y'all get settled in."

As he passed by them Sam swore he heard a click, but he wasn't sure what it could have been from.

Once Colin had disappeared back into the master suite, Dean snorted before taking another sip of beer. "That… might be the most I've ever heard him speak," Garth said, looking at Rhys. The blond scoffed and shook his head. 'Probably cuz he's all bitched-out for the day."

Sam coughed around his mouthful, swallowing despite the burn. "Well… guess there's no hotel around here?"

"The whole place!" Garth exclaimed. Rhys laughed, "He ain't wrong, though. No hotel here. Every house has guest rooms. We've got two, if y'all are interested."

He was being genuine, Garth seemed to have taken a liking to him. Dean opened his mouth but Sam beat him to it. "Sounds good to us," he said, rising. He passed Dean, still casually against the windowsill, and finally got to swat him back. "Dude, c'mon. I'm not carrying all of this in."

Rolling his eyes, Dean groaned, "Coming, _Samantha,_ " He then downed his beer, set it on a coaster, and headed out.

Waiting for a moment, Rhys looked at Garth. "What's that one grown on, Miracle Gro?" 

 

* * *

 

"Alright… what is this place?" 

By the Impala, the brothers were crowded around the trunk, pantomiming. "I dunno, Dean," Sam sighed. "Nothing's… too weird. They're just a bunch of hippies?" he gave the alpha a reassuring look.

"Yeah, and Manson lives right up the road…" Dean scoffed. He looked over the weaponry. "I feel like we need to take some of this, just in case."

"Something tells me Colin's got a safe full of shotguns somewhere…"

"Yeah what was that? I was expecting some territorial bull, but he just kinda… sat down."

"Oh, he sized us up. We probably don't look like threats because we're here to 'handle the situation'."

Which we still don't know a lot about…." Grabbing the last of things, they leaned back and Dean closed the hood.

They turned to face the house, silent for a moment. "So… you talk to Cas today?"

Dean shook his head, digging for his phone. "Nah. He's probably doing… whatever it is his birdbrain gets up to."

"... You should call him." Sam then headed into the house. Dean made a face, then looked down at his phone. He squinted.

 _Did he have_ half _of a bar?_

* * *

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

About an hour later of small chitchat and getting ready had the group meandering down to the pavilion. It was within walking distance, something Dean realized the folks around there did _a lot_ of. As they grew closer, their little group grew from five, to ten. The chatter was excited and amiable. Maybe it was the anticipation of a party. Maybe it was prospect of a party, but from how Rhys was gabbig to Sam, parties happened _often._ It was "part of" the life of Blue Ridge.

Work hard, play even harder.

Mason jars strung onto lights and lights themselves criss crossed in the sky from poles. Tables with simple sheets, plates, and glasses circled the main area. There was a stage, where a band was tuning up. A bar about twenty feet long. Colin broke away to go talk to a few other people - other pack members. His stern face told Dean to just steer clear of that business and get more of the wicked beer.

So, off to the bar he went, leaving Sam and Garth behind. Ponying up to it, he waited for the young woman behind it to turn around. "Hey gorgeous, got any of that Merritt beer back there? The BR-Ale or whatever…?"

She sized Dean up, and his grin faltered a bit. What was it with people and the shameless stare-downs? "Yeah, okay," she finally said, reaching behind the bar, pulling up a bottle and popping the lid for him. "So you one of the guys stayin' with the Merritts?"

"Uh, Yeah. Name's Dean," he said, extending his hand.

She returned the handshake. "Odette. Witch, understudy to Elder Jude. We're gonna be working together, I think."

 _Elder?_ Best to file that away for later. "Forward, I like it," Dean said with a grin. "So workin' together… that mean spell weaving or are you going to teach me how to make some candles? Cuz my Etsy's lookin' pretty bare."

Odette rolled her eyes, reaching to get her phone from her pocket. "If you're a good boy I might make you some necklaces for your cause…"

Dean had abandoned the back and forth, though. His eyes were fixed on her phone. _She had service._ Odette had to clear her throat to get his attention. "Oh. Uh. Yeah. So. What kind of witch are you?" He leaned back, nursing his beer.

But the girl was all smirk at this point, setting her phone down on the bar. "It's a mix," she said honestly. "Not the pagan kind, not pure hoodoo or celtic. The woman who taught me is Cherokee." She shrugged. "But Latin is Latin…" She got herself a glass, then starting making what would be a whiskey sour for herself.

"Ah," Dean said with a skeptical nod. He looked around, eyes swinging around, looking for Sam. He was sitting at a table with Garth and Rhys, a few other people that clearly were only strangers to Sam and Dean. But it was going fine.

"Hey," Odette snapped her fingers, getting the hunter's attention. "You know, you should relax, Dean. You're in one of the safest places for… you know." She waved her hand around, before taking a sip of her drink.

"Well, no offense, but I didn't know that - ya know-" he waved his hand around like she did "-even existed."

Odette opened her mouth to speak, but her eyes darted over to the stage. She groaned. "Oh christ…"

Turning to see, Dean saw a lanky wolf, physically looking to be in his late 30s, early 40s - shaggy hair, shabby clothes, giant smile and a microphone. "Alright, Alright folks!" He whooped, causing the gathering crowd to pause and cheer. "Sure y'all are wonderin' who let me at this mic, but I promise I'll make it quick. Now, we here up on the Ridge, we love havin' parties. Shit I think last week we celebrated some goats givin' birth to healthy kids just to kill a few kegs."

There was laughter. Dean sought the crowd for his brother. Sam was sitting at the table still, watching Hank with an uneasiness. He felt it, too. That was the man from the photo. The man by their grandfather. He still looked the same, and that had Dean wondering just what kind of wolves they were dealing with. Of course - he'd never known wolves to outlive the hunters that chased them. Maybe this Hank was just lucky.

"But tonight - we've got some guests that y'all better not chase off. Sure everyone's aware now what's lurkin' out there…" Hank pointed, off to mountains. It was strange, how some looked, how others just nursed their drinks. "But we are not in the _Dark_ this time. Our ally and brother, Garth-"  a few wolves yipped and hooted. Garth looked bashful and waved " -was kind enough to enlist a couple of men whose area of expertise is right up our alley. Give it up for Sam and Dean," He grabbed a beer, met eyes with Sam, and held it up. "This party's for y'all. Welcome to Blue Ridge."

There were cheers, the music kicked into gear, Hank jumped from the stage. Rhys was rolling his eyes and laughing. "That's Uncle Bones for ya," he said to Sam.

Sam smiled, not wanting to look too out-of-place. "Why do you call him that?"

"Cuz that's what he should be - bones. And apparently once he got lost comin' down from Pennsylvania. Took 'em a month and he looked like he'd wasted away," the omega shrugged. "Every bag of trail mix has that one nut, right?"

"Hah, yeah," Sam agreed. He examined his beer, sighing before another look of confusion crossed his face. "How'd he… know our names?"

"Oh, me," Garth said with a wave of his hand. "Ah," Sam nodded, taking a drink. 

Downing the rest of his own drink, Rhys hopped up. "C'mon, Ah wanna dance. You in, Garth?"

"Eh… fuck it," Garth got up as well. "Ya gonna cut a rug, Sam?" He asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"No I uh, I'm gonna hang back for a little. Take it all in," neither seemed convinced, but were content to leave Sam to his watchful perch. His eyes dropped down to the floor of the pavillian, taking in that etched sign.

As the night wore on, so did the brother's hesitations. Relaxed by the nature of the people surrounding them, Sam found himself playing pool hall card games, drinking more than he should have. But when was the last time he'd done that? Dean shared the same - switching from beer to whiskey within the first hour.

Near midnight, he staggered around until he found Odette. She had been joking with Rhys and Sam, but Dean leaned down from behind her. "Yoooou have cellphone service," he drawled, pointing at her.

"Yeeeeaaah…?" Odette agreed, pulling out her phone with a giggle. "Gotta call the mothership or something?" She snorted out.

"Something like that," Dean reached for the phone. She toyed with him - handing it out, yanking it back. Dean wound up groaning..

"Aw c'mon!" Sam said, grinning at Dean. "He's gotta call someone _special._ "

"Hey!" Dean snapped, managing to take the phone. "Acting like a buncha preteens. What is this, Lizzy Macquire?"

As Dean wandered, Rhys looked around with hooded eyes. "Wait, who's Lizzy Macquire?"

Odette popped him on the back of the head. "Do _not_ make it sound like we don't have cable here."

"Well,  _Ah_ don't," Rhys winced, rubbing his skull. "S'it not on netflix?"

Sam chuckled. _Yeeeaaaaah… this is gonna be fun._ He thought. "No, not that I know of," he replied. The omega just huffed, before dismissing the thing entirely. 

The beta's eyes roamed the crowd, looking for the strange uncle. Who had once stood by his grandfather. He was lost to the crowd. Sam rose to get another beer, grabbing one from a nearby barrel full of ice. Using his shirt to twist off the lid, he continued to gaze around. It was just... a happy scene. And nothing had exploded from the shadows to ruin it. Scanning, scanning ,breathing in the scents of all of the wolves, witches, and something else. Gaze lingering at a table, he saw a woman sitting, surrounded it seemed. A wide grin and thin lips, her hair wound up in a scarf, spilling out. She seemed... to almost glow. Sam's breath caught in his throat. She looked up at him, her eyes piercing blue...

_I am become..._

She looked away. Sam continued to hold his breath. He exhaled through his nose, turned, and by the time he had returned the table, composure had been regained and none were the wiser.

 

* * *

 

 

Away from the noise of the party, Dean fiddled with the phone until he dialed a number he knew by heart. He looked over his shoulder, and placed the phone to his ear while he found somewhere to sit, or lean.

"... Hey there, Hot Wings."

"Dean I told you not to call me that."

"Ah c'mon, I'm actually a little hammered. Lemme have it."

"Wait, hammered? You're drunk?"

"I know, it's crazy. These people here.. They know what they're doin'."

"Dean…"

 _Ah sweet relief, a bench!_ "Where are you?"

"I'm near the Bunker. I take it you aren't there?"

"Nah, in bumblefuck North Carolina, helping Garth with a thing… you should come out."

"Am I needed?"

Dean frowned at the gravel path before him. "Well… probably. I miss you though. So get on out here, Butterfree."

"Butterfr -" Castiel sighed. The was amusement in the exhausted sound. "I will be there soon."

 

* * *

 

 

Odette scoured the party hunting for Dean, griping about "the new guy" taking her phone. She even went so far as to check Sam's shirt pocket - while he was sitting down, minding his own business. Garth just laughed, shaking his head before kicking back more in his chair. He sighed. 

"This would be a fun place," he mused. "The first time I wound up comin' through here, Bess knew The Merritt's sister, Laura. She wasn't around though - apparently she'd skipped out a _long_ time ago. But these people are so friendly." He hiccuped, moving to lean forward on the table.

He was drunk. Sam just grinned. He was just impressed Garth could handle _three_ beers now instead of just one.

"S'why I was worried, about everything," he added, tone slurred, softer. "I'd live here if I could. Great place for pups, so Bess thinks."

Sam snorted. "Stay in one place, play homemaker?" He asked skeptically, nursing his beer. But he could see the appeal. That part of Sam was dead, but the ghost still howled on occasion.

"Nah nah nah," Garth waved his hand dismissively. "Make it a home base. This pack's better than the one me and Bess are in. I know it's her family and all - wel, what's left of it," he shrugged.

Garth pause, but when he opened his mouth to speak again, Sam was saved with his phone vibrating. It was a strange number. "Hel...lo?"

  
"It's Dean. Called Castiel, he's here - wait. _You've_ got service but _I_ don't? Fuck it - He can't get in. Get the fuckin' car and meet me at that fucking gate."

 


	3. The Yellow Gate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Thar be (a little) bit of destiel action.

 

"What do you mean he can't 'get in'?" Sam rose, drawing concern from Garth.

"I mean he can't get in, man! There's like some anti-angel fence or something! Grab one of those hippies, and Garth, and come on!"

"Ok, ok!" Sam hung up, then frowned at Garth. The thinner man looked meek, and hiccuped again.

Rolling his eyes, Sam grabbed Garth by the arm and gently helped him to his feet. "Alright, Garth, focus - why wouldn't an angel be able to get into Blue Ridge?"

Garth blinked, then shrugged. "I dunno. We can find out though!" He then tossed his head back, and belted out "RHYYYYYYS. ODIIIIIIIE."

Rhys, who had been dancing, was the first to stagger over. He giggled at Garth. "Man, lookit you. Yer gonna need the hair of the-"

"Rhys, a friend of mine who's here to help can't get in," Sam interrupted, making the omega frown. First with that slight twinge of affrontement, then confusion.

"Ah… if he wasn't invited… he here at the gate?" Sam nodded. Looking at Garth, then back at Sam, Rhys sighed. "A'ight, then," grabbing his beer, he headed away from the party, begrudingly,

They found Dean pacing at the gate, twisting around with a look that bordered outrage. "See this shit?" He asked as the others hopped out of the car. Dean jumped from one side of the gate, to the other. Back and forth. "I can come and go all I want, but he can't?"

"He who?" Rhys asked, sniffing and looking around. His eyes widened then. He'd never smelled anything like _that_ before.

Castiel appeared out of the woods, having been walking the length in which he could possibly get so close. But it was to no avail - the angel looked annoyed. Dean just extended a hand to Castiel. When he reached the others, Rhys took a step back, angling himself between Garth and Sam.

"I have never felt wards of this caliber before." Castiel said with a sigh.

Sam licked his lips, scanning the area lit up by the headlights of the impala. Dean headed for the trunk, throwing it open and grumbling. "Rhys, why can't Castiel come in?"

"He h-h'ain't been invited," the omega replied, his eyes stuck on the man in question. "That or he's… a demon." He didn't smell like a vampire, that was for sure. So it couldn't be that.

Castiel snorted. Dean let out a barking laugh. "Yeah, okay, and I'm actually a leprechaun." He returned, hands empty. He was staring Rhys down. "So ya gonna invite him in or what?"

Rhys blinked, before crossing his arms. "Ah can't just click my heels or wiggle my nose about it…"

Castiel could sense resistance. A skittish nature had overcome the other wolf. He took two steps forward, felt himself being pushed back by an invisible hand. "Look, I mean you no harm," he explained. "I'm not a demon, trust me. I'm an Angel." As Rhys' eyes widened, Castiel took a step back, looking up in thought. "Well, I was, then I was god,then I was just an angel. Then I wasn't, but my grace was returned and-"

"Look, he's not evil, alright?" Dean said, clearly more sober now that he had been, potentially, all day. "Just do the damn thing and let him in."

"Ah ain't an elder,though!" Rhys said,stressed. He raked his hands through his hair, blue eyes darting around the group.

"Then go get one," Castiel said, his voice firm, soft.

For a moment, there was silence. Rhys bit his lip, dug around for his phone, and shot out a quick text. Dean threw his hands up and groaned. Everyone had fucking service but him.

It was a few moments of awkward silence, but soon the sound of footfall coming up the road hit their ears. Turning when the others did, Sam's nostrils flared. The woman with whom he'd made eye contact at the party approached. Calm and serene, he felt for a split second the world blur at the edges of his sight.

"Alma," Rhys sounded relieved, his trademark smile back in place.

She smiled, crossing her arms casually, surveying the scene. Her eyes, pale as her hair, fixated on Castiel. "Another guest." She toned, head tilting back just so. The air hung heavy then. Castiel's jaw was tight and it had Dean on edge suddenly.

"Welcome to Blue Ridge. I apologize for your delay." She held out her hand then. Garth relaxed, Castiel stood unsure. Carefully, he took a step forward, and raised his hand. He was able to cross the line. And carefully, he shook her hand.

Dean held his breath.

"Okay, wait," Sam said, holding his hands out. "Why the defense against _angels?_ I know they're assholes, but…"

Alma looked at Sam, blinking slowly. "It is tradition that we kept all who were not represented here, outside of here. Vampires, demons, even angels. Those that would harm wolves, witches, fae." She looked at Dean, honing in on his discomfort. "Those outside of here require to be invited. It keeps things safe. Old magic - as I'm sure you have come to realize..." Her eyes swung back to Castiel. "I had intent to find you all in the morning, have a proper introduction. But, there is the party. No sense in causing concern."

Castiel was stiff. His breathing, mitigated. Shallow and silent, Dean fought not to keep glancing over at his lover. "Of course, you're completely free to retire for the evening - if you're tired from your journey." Alma added.

Her and Castiel shared a silent exchange of looks. No one moved. Sam glanced back and forth, knowing instantly he and Dean had questions. For, well, everyone in the damn road. Then, Alma's smile returned, and she turned, heading back down the road. As she descended the hill, her footsteps faded, suggesting she materialized away.

Dean shuddered.

"Let's just… get back," Garth suggested, forcing a yawn.

They all piled in, allbeit a little awkwardly. It was silent, tense, until Dean glared at Sam. "Fuckin' Cellphone service?!"

Sam shrugged, his eyes glued straight ahead. "Boost mobile, dude."

 

* * *

 

 

Getting back to the Merritt household, Rhys opted to go back to the party with Garth and to return Odette her cellphone. Leaving the Winchesters and Co. to sit around the living room, untrusting of their surroundings and regretting agreeing to favors.

But Dean still grabbed one of Colin's beers for anyone who wanted one.

"You know her," Sam said, looking at Castiel. "That Alma lady."

Castiel sighed, leaning back and rubbing a hand down his face. "I… I do. Somewhat."

"Now is not the time to be a Vague, Mr. Myagi." Dean mumbled as he sat down beside Castiel. Castiel shifted closer to Dean, the hunter slinging his arm around the other man.

 

* * *

 

 

"... Sometimes I think your years are catchin' up, Alma."

Colin sat with Jude and Alma, the two surveying the fae. They all sat off and away from the party, drinks in hands. Alma, casual as always. Nothing ever seemed to bother her. But Colin was bristling despite his own cavalier demeanor. He was lucky for the drink.

_A fuckin' angel._

"This isn't a bad thing," Jude said, looking at Colin. "Angels… aren't necessarily a problem. Sure, we had a few a couple of years ago try to agitate us, but… those days are gone. We haven't had an angel here in years. And before that, we never interacted with them. Didn't think they even existed."

"Remember that small one, Hannah?" Alma suggested. "She was kind. This Castiel, he is kind also. I don't see a reason to worry."

Looking beyond Jude, Colin spotted Odette, Rhys, Garth and some others some tables away. He sighed through his nose. "Don't like it," he said, eyes flashing.

"Colin, you know that your home is by far the most guarded and safest in this entire valley." Jude's voice was stern. "Closest to most of the houses, warded thanks to _yours truly._ And it's not like any of them are going to go after Rhys with your scent all over the place. This is temporary, remember? We only need them for a little bit."

The alpha snorted. Jude frowned.

"Sour puss, can't you just be happy a plan's coming together for once?"

"I'll be happy once my house isn't infested with 'guests'."

Alma smirked. "That's why we rely on Rhys to express that ever so famous Merritt hospitality. He's the only one with a pound of it."

 

* * *

 

 

Lost in thought, pouring through his thousands of years of memories, Castiel closed his eyes and rested his elbows on his knees. "She was thought dead," he said finally. "I… I don't know this Alma, but I know that face. She's… not from this place. Not from Hell, or Heaven, either. We - the other angels and I - we couldn't make sense of these beings. She was one of the first. They came through a literal crack in the very fabric of this world-"

"Like a rift in a dimension?" Sam asked, scoffing. Amazingly, something he could still be skeptical about.

Castiel nodded. "Many got through, many still do. But… they are benign now. Not back then, obviously," he waved a hand dismissively. "I recall that she was one of the few Death viewed neither as an adversary nor an ally. He said none could take her, not even himself. But she could not take him, as well. There was trouble, the fae wanted to claim parts of this land. Live among the native populace. Before everyone from Europe began taking over. When they did, there was just a rash of murders, disappearances, people coming back half-human and out of their minds."

"Ok so… shit happened as per usual, then it calmed down - why did you think she was dead?" Sam glanced at the door, just to be sure.

Castiel shrugged again. "She… became untraceable. We assumed, after some decades, that she had either gone back 'home' or that she had actually fallen. Gabriel once joked that if ever he found the one who had done it he would saint them immediately. Apparently she just came here… and others, too," he leaned against Dean. "We need to be careful here. Until we know more…" he looked up at his lover then, before wrinkling his nose. "Your breath smells of elderberries."

"AND YOU'RE MOTHER IS A HAMPSTER!" Dean laughed out, surprising himself with how eagerly he shot that comeback out. Castiel and Sam look a bit dismayed.

 

* * *

 

Dean and Castiel eventually headed upstairs, leaving Sam to grab his laptop and head out to the porch. It was a nice night, the wifi signal was strong. And he couldn't quite bring himself to rest yet. Parking it in a rocking chair, beer on the railing of the porch, he sighed when the signal was strong.

And then, the hunt began.

He started broadly, narrowing his searches down to cases related to the area. Nothing but the standard fare of things - werewolves here, witch there. Not that the headlines were blazing with that, but still. Then, he began to find more local things about the brewery, about organic, free range crops. Still, nothing solid.

Nothing until a headline from fifteen years prier. Blue Ridge wasn't named, but it spoke about an "unincorporated town" being assisted by the national guard in recovering from what was deemed "a rogue forest fire". In May. Scratching the side of his nose, he clicked around, but couldn't find anything concrete. It was all like an empty can of pringles. He would have settled for crumbs.

Hearing people coming up the drive, Sam lowered the screen of his laptop, blinking so his eyes could adjust. It was Rhys, leading a beta who had a very drunk Garth over his shoulder. He was singing some kind of song. Sam couldn't be sure if it was Styx or Fleetwood Mac.

"Just take him in the back bedroom Aaron." Rhys snickered as he opened the door for the beta. "Thanks!"

He waited, before closing the door and looking over at Sam. "He really can't drink," he said, walking over, leaning against a support pole, his hands in his pockets.

"Heh, yeah - you shoulda seen him when he was human," Sam said. "One and done."

A little laugh, and Rhys tossed his hair from his fair. He looked out along the yard. "Y'all are skittish," he said randomly.

Sam snorted. "Skittish? No," he shook his head. "Just uh… 'soaking it all in'."

"Ain't much to soak in," Rhys teased, looking at the beta. "Just… if it gets weird. Lemme know."

Sam wondered what Rhys could mean by 'weird'. He doubted the blond had the standard definition. Still, he quirked a smile, before nodding. "I'll keep it in mind. Thanks."

Rhys nodded again, then turned to leave. "Wait, Rhys-" he turned, blinking in confusion. "Ah, do you… you do know what all's going on, right?"

After a moment, the blond shrugged. "Dead animals, boundary's gettin' broken. Real bad shit, mostly. Why?"

"Oh, nothing, just - most omegas in packs…"

Rhys grinned. "Only know if they're mated to the alpha? Yeah, Colin's in charge, but Ah run the den since he hasn't got a mate… and this whole place…" he shuddered at the breeze, looking around again. "Whole place is mah den… Ah just hope people don't start goin' missin' or somethin'. See ya in the mornin', Sam. Breakfast is at six."

Before Sam had time to sputter out a protest, the omega was already in, and "Aaron" was on his way out. _Six? SIX?_

 

* * *

* * *

 

Once the door shut, Castiel was mid-shirking his coat when Dean pulled him into an embrace. They stood there, giving themselves a few moments. In the privacy of the room the alpha felt a wave of relief was over him. Castiel nudged Dean's jaw with his nose, leaning up to kiss him.

Humming out a grow, Dean smiled into it. "I was afraid you weren't gonna get in," he mumbled, dipping his head down to breathe in the angel's scent. "Need you."

Smiling, Castiel smooth his hands over Dean's chest, splaying them out and then pushing his buttoned shirt over and off his shoulders. "Clearly," he teased, hands playing with the hem of the man's t-shirt. He paused, though. "Tomorrow, I think it'll be best if I go see Alma. I just need to be sure she's not… running some cut or up to something."

"So I'll go with you," Dean shrugged, holding Castiel's tie gently, thumb running over the knot.

Castiel shook his head. "No, better you and Sam spend time scoping this place out. The sooner we figure all of this out…"

"The sooner we can get the hell out of here...." Grinning then, Dean gently nudged Castiel to back up, towards the bed. "How about we put this crappy evening to bed on a high note?"

The angel chuckled, back-stepping one knee, then the other onto the bed. "You're clearly not too stressed about the given situation."

"Eh, nothin's on fire, no one's possessed..." Dean took off his shirt, biting the corner of his lip as his eyes met his lover's.

Something cracked through the air, then. Clothing was rended, lips and tongues clashed. Too long. Three days was just too long. Dean had been aching for Castiel, stuck surrounded by a fertile pack he had nothing to do with. Knowing his mate was off in the distance and not with him. Castiel, too, felt himself finally shaking loose the coils of his burdens. Hovering over Castiel's pale chest, Dean's mouth made a slow path south. Worshiping, taking in every subtle taste of his flesh. 

Castiel's hand raked through Dean's hair, down to the back of his neck. His hips rolled, groaning because cotton still separated them from complete exposure. A nip had his gasping. The second hissing in breath. Always surprising, never able to predict what the alpha would do. He could feel Dean's erection growing against his own. Reaching down, the angel made quick work of the underwear. Ha palmed Dean, causing the other to freeze, a moan rippling out of his mouth.

Whisky dick wasn't going to be an issue.

* * *

 


	4. Buried Keys

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

The morning crept through the windows. And for the first time in weeks, Sam woke rested. Granted, he had barely made it into the other spare room before collapsing, but he had hadn't been plagued by  _ that thing.  _ Stretching, he checked the clock on the wall, and his shoulders sagged.

Six forty-five. He had probably missed the chance at breakfast.

Rising he quietly went about getting dressed. Grabbing a gun to tuck into his belt and combing his hair, he glanced up at the ceiling to see if he could hear Dean and Castiel. No luck. He checked around, finding the house empty on his way to the kitchen. Propped up against an orange on the kitchen table was a note. Scrawled cursive, a little hard to read…

 

__ Bacon - Fruit - Yogurt  in fridge.  
__ Bread ready by toaster. Coffee in the pot.  Gotta make   
your own eggs, though. Shit just don't keep.  
Out back in the greenhouse if needed.  
  
__                                                                -Rhys.

 

Shaking his head, Sam tossed the note back down. He found an immense pile of bacon that he left for Dean. He wound up with toast and an orange, the hunt for a coffee mug had him realizing a startling amount of their dishes seemed handmade or very, very old. Sniffing a copper-colored mug, the beta deemed it clean, and wandered outside.

The Merritt's property extended far further back than Sam first thought. About two acres of cleared land, with a line of greenhouses. A barn off to the left side of the house. Fields beyond, bumping quickly into more forest. Rolling, everything had some kind of slant to it. He could hear a saw somewhere - probably Colin doing… whatever it was he did.

Down the shaggy steps, across the grass, Sam polished off the last of his orange as he peeked into the first greenhouse. Rows and rows of plants, some with the most vibrant colors he'd ever seen. But no lanky omega to thank for breakfast. The second one were rows of vegetables - some in pots, some vined. Still, they seemed… fresh, larger. Through the myriad of smells, he detected hops. 

Unable to help himself, Sam ventured in. There were some things he recognized, a few he didn't. He stopped though, doing a double take when he saw a pot plant. Smirking, he turned, reached out, and touched a leaf gently. His brother's jokes of hippies flooded his head right up until he heard a soft clank of metal.

Rhys came in through the door on the opposite end, awkwardly carrying three buckets. He set one down with a swear, smiling. "Well look who's up finally," he didn't even bother looking at Sam, very much focused on what he was doing. Soil transplanting, it seemed. "Find the note?"

"Yeah, definitely," Sam said, holding up his coffee cup. "My brother's still asleep. He'll appreciate the bacon for sure. What'd you do, fry up two pounds?"

Rhys laughed, straightening up. "That's how much was left? Damn, Ah'm impressed," he said. "Had half the pack in this mornin'. Ah figured y'all'd just stayed outta sight. So, what's on yer to-do list today?"

Sam looked around, shrugging. "Honestly, I'm still not sure where we should start." He confessed. "There's no… carcass or anything to look at and we're not really sure where this 'boundary' you guys have is at."

"It's got a 5 mile circumference, Ah think," the blond said, wiping his hand across his brow, leaving a faint streak of dirt. "Tell ya what, though. Ah was gonna go out, look for some Oysters." Sam gave him a queer look at that. " _ Mushrooms _ , medicinal. Jude and Alma need some. Yer welcome to come. There's a few spots we left alone for proof, that you could get a look at. Unless you gotta go with your brother."

"Sure  _ yours  _ won't want to come with us?" Sam asked, arching a brow. He wasn't sure about Colin. Colin struck him as the type of man who'd killed before for "moral" reasons. Not that he and his own family were exempt - but if you smelled someone wearing the same cologne as you…

Rhys just puffed. "What's he gonna do 'bout it? Get huffy? Strut around?" The omega just shook his head. "Ah'll let ya in on one thing, Sam - our territory isn't just our territory. Colin couldn't just boot ya or kick  _ your  _ ass. We share this place, so we share its rules, right? He'd have to bring it to the table. Then, he'd still go for yer brother to pony up the debt. Alpha and all. Colin wouldn't see it as fair."

Sam scoffed. "Oh come  _ on!  _ " he said, walking over to Rhys to watch him work, still feeling slighted. "So much for being non-traditional if it works  _ that  _ way."

"Eh," Rhys gave Sam a sly grin. "Feel like he'd rather kick Dean's ass, anyway. So, ya in for a little mushroom hunt and a check of the border?"

 

* * *

 

Her house was made of stones. Tucked away into the woods. Old, tidy, hidden. Castiel saw it as withdrawn. But that flickered in his memory as familiar more than her name had. And she sat, clearly waiting. Wild hair a coarse and curly fire around her pale, sharp face. He had left his trench coat at the house, walking up in one of Dean's borrowed shirts and his slacks. Castiel knew by this point in his existence to blend when necessary.

Not that it would have mattered with her.

Alma was sitting in a chair, sloped-back for reclining, reading. The book was leather-bound and shaggy like the shingles on the roof. She looked up as Castiel approached, slowly closing the book. Her smile petite - just the telltale turn-up of the lips. "I expected the alpha, but not his alpha-mate."

Castiel almost dismissed the comment, "You know my kind does not operate as his," he said simply. He moved to stand on the deck. Silence hung in the air. As it had at The Yellow Gate. 

"I do," Alma answered plainly. "You have many questions, don't you?" Her eyes searched his face then, in wonder. "Do you remember me at all, Castiel?"

Years ago, that might have been jarring. But Castiel had since learned to hide surprise. He leaned against the porch's railing, smoothing his hands over his legs. "I remember you, but not by this name 'Alma'," he replied. "You were.... Suriel." He looked at her then. "I remember you before you were found out to not be like us at all. A healer, an angel 'of God's command'..."

Alma sighed in amusement, looking up at the sky beyond the awning. "I was once Suriel," she admitted. "Long ago, but not for long."

"What I don't understand… is how you escaped."

"Well, that, dear 'brethren', is more complicated than even this matter at hand," she set her book down on the table, motioning to the pitcher of tea and accompanying glasses. "Sit, enjoy this bit of hospitality and I might be able to share some details."

 

* * *

 

 

Dean trudged up the ridge, reluctantly at best. He wasn't comfortable with the entire morning, despite devouring a pound of bacon, some eggs Cas had made, some grade-C coffee. It meant they were all going to split up in this uncharted territory. Sam had already been going for Rhys, the much more talkative and naive wolf, while Cas was going after Alma. The latter was more worrisome, yet up her trekked to "Bones' " Cabin.

Dean would admit it had been very easy and pleasant to get directions from the locals. He had not expected to hike.

Hank's cabin was surprisingly… rustic-modern. Clearly an old thing updated decade after decade. There were solar panels stationed strategically to catch the patches of sunlight that the crazy wolf probably cut out of the tree-tops himself. The house lacked decoration on the exterior - no one with that inclination to keep it up, Dean supposed. But Old Bones, the man with the answers, was coming up from a trail with fish slung on a line across his shoulder and whistling. 

"Hey, Hank!" Dean barked, causing the man to whip around - as if he was human lost in his own world. But a bright smile lit up across his stubbled face. 

"Well Dean Winchester! Up here to get my Hangover-Cure? Or did Alma spook that out of you last night?"

Dean squinted, baffled how he could have known about what could "possibly" have happened. "Uh, no, she was like a tall glass of water," he said, with a half-hearted wave. 

"Well that's a nice way to excuse the creepy," Hank said, pulling the fish from his shoulder, stringing them up along what looked like a clothes line. "But Ah Bet you're comin' 'round with her bein' the last one yer mind."

"Sure," Dean said skeptically. He approached the spot slower once he saw there was an old fire pit. The man was about to air-smoke some trout.

"But I'm really here to ask how the hell you knew me and Sam. And why we saw you standing next to someone we knew in a certain old-timey picture. A relative, Henry Winchester."

"... Scary how 'old-timey' means the 40's and 50's these days." Hank said. He paused, straightening up as he looked for his gutting knife. His eyes fell on Dean then, realizing he might as well not beat around the bush. "Yer grandfather, Hank. He was an old friend o' mine. Helped us fortify our barrier… scared of occult nazis," he let out a soft laugh.

"So the Men of Letters… knew about this place?" Dean asked, sitting down on a stump by the pit. 

"Oh yeah! Tried to burn it down a few times, in fact," Hank recalled. His hands were making swift work of the trout as he continued. "Ah remember bumping into them for the first time in the 20's. Strict sonsabitches. Didn't matter at all Ah was just some dumb bootlegger who  _ just so happened _ to like howlin' at the moon," he rolled his eyes. "Gave 'em the slip but they followed me home. We had 'bout twenty years of fightin' with 'em - back and forth, back and forth. It was yer man Henry who set it all straight."

Dean nodded, clearing his throat and glancing back at the cabin. "So the symbol at the town ho-down center?"

Hank barked out a laugh. "Oh that? Yeah Ole Henry did that. Part of the deal with 'The Peace'. Ah think it's a little pretentious of a symbol myself, but," the wolf shrugged. "It's what's  _ beneath  _ it that matters. We keep a few things safe, they leave us be." The fish cleaned, he then went about starting the fire.

Dean's eyes were wide. "Wait like… there's a bunker or something? What if what you're guarding has something to do with whatever the hell's going on around here?"

"Well when ya put it that way...." Hank scoffed. "Nobody knows what's down there, though 'cept for me and Alma and a couple of the oldies." He sat back, nudging the kindling with his foot before he went about stacking logs. "My money's on revenge, anyway. Not some old relic your granddad left behind."

Dean wasn't convinced. The Men of Letters were always neck deep in some kind of shit when they were brought up. "Well if it's all the same to you, think I'd like to take a peek down in there."

"Sure, sure," Hank said as he stood and went to sit in an old camping chair. Fishing in his shirt pocket, he withdrew a joint and a box of matches. "If you like staring at doors. All that's down there's a way to Acadia. Trust me, you don't wanna go there. Hell, even the Fae who came from there don't wanna go there."

Dean ran a hand over his face, sighing. Eyes closed for a moment, he gulped. "I don't want to ask this but… what the hell is Acadia?"

 

* * *

 

 

 

* * *

 

"I wasn't going to go back to Acadia. I was also not giving 'God' any hints as to where the Hedges were," Alma stirred the ice in her glass. "I masqueraded as Suriel long enough to get a handle of this realm… until of course, there was that event during the revolutionary war," she sighed, shaking her head. "I wouldn't… the human's politics. I could not heal so many, not after my daughter was killed." She paused, features seeming sullen for the briefest of moments. "And that is how it became clear. But you angels have horrible methods of incarceration. I simply waited, killed four, and left through… what are those mini-heavens called again?"

Castiel just waved it off, brow furrowing. "I remember Azrael and Raphael searching for decades. You were more wanted than anything else. God was… very angry. I was very angry."

She hummed. "Aye, because I was not his creation," she clarified. "And he did not know until it was exposed. Bit sad, if you think of it. So many children, can't notice when a rat sneaks in. I landed here, befriended locals, both indigenous and travelling… Now, here we are." She sighed wistfully. 

"Death himself told God not to smite the fae on the earth because of you," Castiel said, which had Alma arch her brow. "I have always wondered what kind of  _ thing  _ could invoke such an ally. I suppose it makes sense. Now, after everything I have done." He nodded to himself at that. Ten years ago, he would have simply tried to smite her where she stood.

"We all come far, be it days or centuries, Castiel." 

The angel looked at her sharply then. "I am still not comfortable with us being here, knowing that this place is partly yours."

Her eyes narrowed, but not out of suspicion. "My, how informed you are, little bird. For an angel of 'solitude' and 'serenity' you have certainly kept yourself in the thick of things."

Castiel's eyes narrowed as well, and he leaned back in his seat. "Too many answers without questions is why no one outside of this place trusts you, I suspect."

"It's good, then, that I'm seen as 'dead'," Alma then sipped her tea. "Set aside your distrust, Castiel. I have never meant harm to anyone who would wish no to harm me."

"Yes, but… why block angels from entering this place? Demons and Vampires, I could understand, but-"

Alma tipped her head, then, and arched a brow. "Yes… I suppose that's a stupid question," Castiel relented. He almost smirked, shaking his head and looking away.

"Your name has preceded you, as well as the brothers whom you are with," Alma explained gently. "You would be surprised, just how much we know for being 'closed off'. Never has your name, 'Castiel', been something of threat. Tell me, what  _ was  _ it like, defeating the darkness?" She propped her chin in her hand, more eager and curious for the tale than she had been for any story in nigh a decade.

Castiel assumed, then, that he was at the end of his fact finding. For now.

* * *

 

 

Dean found himself running once he knew Hank's Cabin was too high up for him to be seen. He booked it, careening down the path, skidding on the main road. Something kicked in his thighs, spurring him faster. The inner wolf lending a hand. In no time he'd reached the Merritt house, skirted around the side, up through the back.

He didn't hear anyone, no fresh scents. So Colin as out and about elsewhere. "Sammy?" He called, rounding a corner. 

Sam looked up from the kitchen table. Books and his laptop littered the oak surface. He had a mix of confusion and concern on his face. " _ Dude _ ," they said in unison. Then leaned back from each other.

"You first…" Sam said slowly.

"Okay, so," Dean looked around, before walking over and sitting across from his brother. "These fae, right? They come from some place called Acadia. It's Lord of the Rings meets Tarantino over there. World that's constantly changing and time is different and all of them are different and - that's not even the crazy part. They've got some door, what they call 'a hedge', that they use to get from there, to over here. And they've been doing it for centuries. Like Hank told me that they think that  _ werewolves  _ were once Fae and all supernatural things are really Fae. But get  _ this…   _ that Aquarian star on the ground? Yeah, there's a  _ mini-bunker  _ under that shit. And that's where the damn  _ 'hedge'  _ is!" He threw his hands up. "And Good ole Granddad helped set it up."

Sam blinked slowly, then let out a heavy breath and looked down at the papers in front of him. "So…" He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. "So there is  _ no  _ information whatsoever about any of that. Anywhere."

"I  _ know,"  _ Dean was just as baffled. "So Henry was a time-travelling pseudo witch James Bondian badass who also helped hide out an entire race of… things."

"Who are now being attacked by some unknown thing with all of these… other people right on top of the thing that probably has nothing to do with them."

"No, but that's just it, Sammy, I think everyone around here  _ does  _ know," Dean shook his head, gritting his teeth. "They're just not telling us anything."

"Yeah," Sam sighed, "Rhys led me around the border today. Part of it - the thing is  _ big _ . He was pretty open about whatever question I had. Like, do you know that the border itself - it's all fae-witch magic? And they used werewolf blood to seal it? It's trippy, man. They combined like, five schools of magic all in one go. That's why it's so intense. And that - hedge thing - probably has the power to keep it up."

"So whatever is able to take it out..."

"Is probably just as powerful. We could be dealing with more fae who want at it."

Dean nodded, rubbing his jaw as he looked away. He crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair. "So's Bo Duke got any information on other fae around here?"

Sam snorted, " _ Rhys  _ did say there were a lot of fae, for the area. They don't normally congregate, apparently. And he said some we'd never know it, because they chose to be beards or trees or something. There's a handful of them around, though. And they all listen to Alma. She's apparently old as dirt."

"Yeah, most of the sketchy ones are," Dean scoffed. "Cas went to go talk to her so… maybe he'll have that end of things figured out for us. At any rate, Hank thinks someone look for revenge is behind it all. So if it's Fae and not that 'Darkest Night' shit no one wants to expound on… we have to figure out how to play this."

They sat in silence for a moment, before Sam quipped. "Well, we can't push The Darkest Night," Sam decided. "Whatever happened, we can ask Alma, or Odette, or someone else. But not Colin or Rhys. Or Hank, for that matter. I feel like they really lost out on it. I kinda… edged at it a little, with Rhys. And he got this look and I just…" Sam shook his head.

"I think he got Walled Off from it, Dean. So, whatever happened… we can just get the Sparknotes version."

Dean sized Sam up then, tipping his head back. "Ah," he said, relaxing. "Not soft on the omega, are ya?" He asked, smirking.

"Shut up," Sam said, shoving some papers and books Dean's way. "He's a good person, Dean. Probably the only one around here who  _ wouldn't  _ let us shoot in the dark."

"Uh huh…" 

The brothers quietened when someone came up on the porch. Tensions dissipated when Rhys wandered in, slinging off a bag and a hat. "Oh, hey!" He said, but quickly wrinkled his nose. "Those're some old books," he mumbled, heading into the kitchen.

"Uh, you wreak of dirt and leaves," Dean said dryly. 

"An' Mountain Laurels," the blond grumbled, not even reacting to the alpha's shot as he went about dusting at his pants. "Fell down through a bunch of 'em…"

"Was there anything strange with the border?" Sam asked, twisting in his seat to get a better view and make it easier to talk.

"Not after we found that one scuff-up spot," Rhys said, washing his hands, flicking water after. "Which was probably just where the deer was snatched up. We weren't really behind the border there," he looked at Sam apologetically. "From where it's been pushed back, and all… you guys figure anything out about that today?"

"Ah, kind of," Dean said. "This… might have more to do with the Fae around here than we first thought, kiddo."

"Ah'm 24," Rhys said, winking at Dean. "Don't let this young ass fool ya."

Sam bit his lip, stifling snickers and Dean shot him a glare. "Wouldn't surprise me, to be honest," Rhys continued, almost more to himself than the conversation as a whole. "First it was witches, then it was us… seems everyone can get a turn." He sighed then, before smiling. "So, barbeque sound good?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so far for the support! I wasn't sure if this would take off or not. If anyone is interested in just getting a run-down of blue ridge (characters, sites, etc) just let me know and I'd be happy to post up a link!
> 
> Up Next: Dean and Sam sneak into the bunker. Castiel tries to stop them, but they all wind up getting into more trouble than it was worth.


	5. Run, Sinnerman

 

* * *

 

* * *

  


"Sammy, c'mon. Not like we've never B&E'd before."

"Technically this is just like… backasswards trespassing." Sam whispered. They were creeping down to the Pavilion. It was one in the morning. Dinner had been uneventful and warm. Just time spent getting to know the pack, eating barbeque. Drinking a bit. Twice there was a brawl - but that seemed normal. Once Dean was even goaded, but he managed to pass on it with his sly words. Nothing was too personal - the pack had still been feeling them out. But once Colin laughed - a loud, barrelling sound - so Sam chalked it up as him finally letting some guard down.

The brothers had kept their head, though. They had waited, and now…

They were getting to work.

"Hey, we're guests! We'll just say we were on a night-walk. Which isn't a lie."

"Yeah, well… We should make it quick... Maybe it's like getting into the bunker back home."

"Or it's gonna call for a complex spell and a sacrifice of a first born - got one of those lyin' around?"

Sam shoved Dean lightly, the older wolf snickering. "Aw c'mon! Have some fun with this! We haven't had this kinda case in months…"

Sam thought about that, the calm and quiet that had descended after Amara. It had been agonizing to a point - so much go, go, go. The stress and the ever-chasing of the salvation of the world. Time and time again, that's what the brothers had done. But with Amara's resolution, with Lucifer indefinitely indisposed, it felt like a too-soon retirement. The beta licked his lips thinking he'd been enjoying it more than Dean. Then again, Dean was encoded to be a hunter. Without something to chase he just sat around getting so grouchy even Castiel couldn't fix it.

He figured it was one of those fundamental things with alphas - born, turned, or just Type A to the max. His own heart was racing in an almost-forgotten way. Sam had missed this too despite his worries.

Walking around the edge of the pavilion, they scoped out the etching of the Aquarian Star. Dean clicked on his flashlight, humming in disappointment. "Of course, not a damn thing stands out. No… buttons, switches, loose tiles…" he mumbled, tapping his heel down lightly here and there.

With an ear keen on the area around him, Sam wandered away from his brother. "We have to find a way _under_ it." he blurted out. "Which could… be impossible. It could be a tunnel under someone's house for all we know."

"..." Dean's eyes widened, and he shown the light under his own face. " _Or_ ," he said, grinning. Then down went the light and the alpha was shooting off.

Sam blinked, hissing. "Dean? Dean!" as he followed. Dean skirted around the building, careful of his footfall. Down a slight run-off, around the back of the building. Sam hadn't realized there was a lower floor. Dean ran on a hunch and his ace wound up high. But Dean didn't try to break in. No, he kept going, down the path that led them around the hill.

They were back in the woods, and the path went from organized, pleasing rocks to a more broken, older trackway. Dean slowed to a halt when the stones curled around a large, large sugar maple tree. They craned their heads back, Dean clicking the flashlight on again. Nothing in the branches, no etchings in the limbs.

"How old do you think this is?" the light swung through the green, down the trunk that split and rejoined halfway to the base.

"... Dunno, it probably dropped the acorn Scratch was after," Sam figured, approaching the tree. It seemed to be hollow near the base - or rather, have an opening.

"... Welp, in ya go, Alice," Dean said.

Sam lurched a bit, then let out a soft laugh. "Fat chance! You're shorter, you check it out first -"

"Or you could both _not_ go into the strange tree-tunnel."

Twisting around, lights flashing and guns drawn, they were met with Castiel pursing his lips at the two of them. Standing in silence, Dean ultimately held up his hands. "In my defense - it looks like it has a slide?"

Castiel wasn't convinced. As guns were put away, he grunted, mostly through his nose. "Whatever is down there…"

"I know, I know, it's _bad,_ " Dean finished. "You know we need to know, though. _They -_ " He waved his hand around " - aren't going to tell us."

"Who's they?"

Standing at the edge of the light was a little girl. It gave the three men a start, considering none of them had sensed her. She had wild brown hair the shape of ringlets, almond eyes and a square nose. In the darkness and half-light of the maglights, her olive skin was especially bright. Almost like she had a glow. Her eyes were pearlescent, swimming with colors. And her clothing was simple. Definitely _not_ in pajamas.

It took a moment for anyone to process the sight of her, let alone draw some kind of conclusion. Dean cleared his throat. "Shouldn't you be in bed, little girl?" he asked, shoulders broadening to posture.

She simply shook her head. "Who's they?"

Castiel took a step back, realizing she was Fae. "You're the hunters," she blurted, without fear. "Alma said you've come to help. There haven't been hunters here in almost two decades… Not since The Darkest Night." She pushed curls from the side of her face. "Who's they?"

Dean threw up his hands a bit, grumbling. "Fuckin' Paulie without the cool old lady…" before turning around. Sam looked at his brother, before he took a tentative step forward and stooped down so he was at eye level.

"We were… just referring to um… everyone," he answered. "It's been hard to find out what's happened here."

"People don't share secrets with strangers." the girl chirped. Her eyes fell on Castiel, who looked ready to step away. "Strangers take time to become friends."

"Well - this is true," Sam said with a nod.

The girl stood square on her feet then, extending a hand. "I am Marin."

Confused, Sam reached out and slowly shook her hand, dwarfed in his own. She smiled, teeth pointed. That had him drawing his hand back, but Marin didn't seem offended. "I keep the Tree."

"What, this tree?" Sam asked, thumbing behind them, and she nodded. "I keep it."

Sam and Dean looked to Castiel then, and he huffed. "She means she's in charge of it, er - watches it."

"Yes," Marin confirmed, looking at them all with her large, eerie eyes. "It's late. You should get to bed."

Dean had half a mind to correct a child for telling him what to do. Even opened his mouth until Castiel gave him a _look._ There'd be no exploring the tree, not with a fanged wildling keeping an eye on it.

Sam gave Marin a small smile. "Only if you do," he straightened up, the fae-child smiling at him and swaying shyly.

Marin didn't depart as the three did. Castiel could feel her eyes on their backs well past them rounding the pavilion. They all could. Once they were an eighth of a mile from the Merritt homestead, it was Sam who stopped, causing the other two to turn, and wait while the taller Winchester gathered his thoughts.

"The fae…" he said, looking around. "They're everywhere, aren't they?"

Castiel pursed his lips, before nodding. " Seems so. I think the strange… ambience I was feeling since we've arrived is the fae, not just the wards."

"So… there's no guarantee that we can make a move without anyone knowing?" Dean spoke, heated. "This is some Orwellian shit."

Sam cocked his head, and his brother just postured. "What? I read!"

"More than Hustler, apparently." Dean growled, and Sam just held up his hands and kept walking.

The trio moved in silence, before Castiel piped up. "Perhaps if we find out what this Darkest Night is, we might be able to gain their trust via that information."

"Or we could all pile into Baby and pretend Garth didn't drag us into this mess."

"... Where did Garth even crash tonight?"

* * *

 

In the morning, Dean stubbornly remained tangled in bed with Castiel. They woke early, hearing the house-sounds proving too much to ignore. Sam, who wasn't so fortunate, wound up rising with the rest. Rhys was in the kitchen, bickering with Colin as they bustled around making breakfast. They spoke in hushed tones, far softer than Sam had heard. He could barely make words out. But there was certainly the tunes of "last night" and "up to"...

The blond looked over as Sam emerged, giving him a smile. It was smaller than usual. "Hey, Sam. Coffee?"

Sam noticed Colin tense somewhat, but he nodded and smiled back. "Yeah, coffee sounds great…"

Still disheveled, he went to sit at the counter, not daring to get into the kitchen and disrupt what flow the brothers had. It was Colin who got him a mug though, but before he slid it over, the wolf paused. "So, y'all met Marin last night?"

Sam blinked naively, and Colin slid the mug over slowly. "Uh… yeah. Who told you?"

"Word gets 'round," the alpha replied, getting his own mug. "Little shit's weird."

Sam couldn't stop himself from grinning a little. He looked down at his coffee, nodding. "Yeah, to say the least. We were bored and couldn't sleep, took a walk and boom."

Rhys snorted, shaking his head. Bacon began to sizzle in the pan, mixing with the smell of biscuits in the oven. "Got too close to her tree, huh?"

"Guess so," Sam said. He looked up then, daring to ask a question. "She's… a fae, right?"

"Yeah," Colin said with a solid nod. "Not as young as she looks, either."

"Ah," the hunter nodded. Colin poured coffee into a thermos. "Ain't worth messin' with her too much. All she knows is that tree. Not what's beneath it."

The room grew still, then. Sam couldn't even bounce his knee. Rhys glanced at his brother with wide eyes, but Colin was staring their guest down. "It's that weird symbol, ain't it?" he asked. "That star lookin' thing, that's what y'all are interested in."

Sam blinked, sputtered. "Well, sort of. It's uh - it's the Aquarian Star. It's… it's a symbol for the Men of Letters. Which… which we're a part of. And…" he turned, pointing to the wall of family photos. "Our - Dean and my's grandfather - is in an old photo over there with your uncle and… others."

"Dad," Rhys chimed softly, looking at Colin. Before his brother could speak, Rhys stepped forward. "You think all that… that's got something to do with what's happening now?"

"... Maybe," Sam admitted, focusing on Rhys. He wasn't as intimidating as Colin. "We think history's… just repeating itself. Sometimes that's just what happens."

Colin tensed, taking hold of his thermos and scooping up a hat off the counter. "Ah'm off to check the hops," he said. Gently, he pressed two knuckles to Rhys' shoulder. " _Gluais faicilleach le cupan làn_ *..."

Rhys smiled, doing the same to Colin's shoulder. Then, the alpha was out the door. Rhys let out a slow breath, before twisting around. "Shit!"

The bacon nearly burned.

Sam was quiet through the exchange, biting his lip while Rhys salvaged the remains. "You and Colin seem close."

"Well, he raised me and mah brother pretty much," Rhys replied, grabbing a mit before getting out the biscuits. "Family's s'posed to be close though. Else no point in callin' it that."

Sam glanced up at the ceiling at that, thinking he might have heard Dean rustling around. His attention went to the backdoor, though, when another wolf, Aaron, he believed, let himself in. He was panting.

"Got another one past the line," he said, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. "Haven't touched anything, came straight... here…"

"Colin know?" Rhys asked, and Aaron shook his head. Sam was already on his feet, saying he'd get Dean. "No, no -" Rhys shook his head. "C'mon, we'll just go."

 

* * *

  


* * *

 

 

The doe's neck was snapped, so far back her head twisted and her snout nearly touched her spine. Legs together front and back, stretched straight from a gutted torso. Flies had arrived for their share. Her eyes were bloodshot and singe marks smattered along her fur.

Sam stooped down, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. The cut to disembowel was clean - a quick claw or pristine knife. Rhys was cutting a wide berth around the scene, sniffing, looking for anything.

"All's Ah smell is ash," he admitted with defeat, unsettled by his findings.

Aaron, who had come with them, was hovering as far from the situation as he could. Coughing as if to clear his throat, he looked down at his shoes. "We going to bury this one, too, or take it back down the mountain?"

"Best take it down, let the witches get a look at her…" the blond replied quietly.

Sam glanced at the Rhys, for a moment wondering if he might be about to bolt like Aaron seemed., Deeming him alright, he instead got out his phone to call Garth. "Sam around you? Yeah put him on.... Dude cut it with the phone crap, we've got another doe… yeah, disemboweled, probably happened in the night… what?" his face scrunched up,and he looked over at Rhys. "... yeah, we'll head there."

Hanging up, Sam exhaled through his nose and stood. "So… the doe's um…."

"Guts…?" Rhys said carefully, arching a brow.

"Yeah. They showed up. Apparently something put them on the Yellow Gate. Sam's down there with Garth now."

Rhys rubbed his face, turning to look down at the doe. "Garth said the gate was wide open." Sam murmured. "Rhys, if you know _anything_ , you need to tell me."

"Ah don't know much at all," the omega said, looking back at Sam. "Kinda kept outta the loop most days…"

Rhys started to head back down the trail then, raking his hands through his hair. "Guess I'll handle this?!" Aaron called, though he got no reply. Sam trotted after, keeping silent until they had reached the gravel road. Rubbing his temple, for a moment the sunshine flared as it cut through the trees.

Stopping to readjust, Rhys did the same, turned, and watched Sam quizzically. "Y'alright?"

Sam shook his head, then caught himself and nodded. "Yeah, headache," he covered. "Rhys… I have to ask you a tough question."

"Gee that sounds reassuring," the omega grinned, albeit a nervous one.

Sam was quiet, face etched with an apologetic smile of his own. "What… what happened during the Darkest Night?"

At first, Rhys' face remained the same. His grin was slow to fall, eyes quick to widen. "I know I'm not supposed to bring it up.." Sam added quickly, approaching. "But all of this might be connected."

"Y'shouldn't be askin' me," Rhys shook his head, blinking several times.

Sam knew what he was doing. Poking and prodding whatever wall had been placed there. Trying to get a crack so the water would force through, break the levy. "Just… basic things." he said earnestly. "I know that it isn't good, to talk about it. Just… just trust me." He was banking on Rhys' good nature. On the omega's generosity, his will to please. "I only want to know so I can help."

Rhys swallowed, looking off into the woods. His head craned back gently, and he seemed to be fixated on something not even there. But he kept blinking. The wolf was fighting off something fierce. A tug in the back of his mind, rocks on his chest.

"Vampires brought in hunters," it came finally, but he didn't sway, stagger, or stutter. "Ah don't remember much. Ah wasn't old enough. Just the sky lit up one night, people were screamin'. Ah rushed out when the walls began to shake. They rattled with magic. Somethin' was… _crumblin'_ , ya know?"

Sam only nodded, watching Rhys, waiting. "So… the vampires - they were setting things on fire? Destroying houses? Were they... killing?"

"All of it. It was chaos…" the blond's head tipped back further, gaze diving into the sun glinting through the leaves. "Came for everybody. Miah family, Jude's people, Alma's. Ah remember wakin' up, hearin' mah ma and father yellin' at everybody. Colin'd done gone 'thrope by the time Ah got outside…"

He shivered as if it were cold. Raked his hands through his hair. And Sam took a step closer.

"Who was he fighting?"

"One of 'em," Rhys' eyes were dilating, and he swung his gaze to Sam. "The one kept screamin' _invenire murum, invenire murum_! But then there were gunshots. Hunter's had come. Ah cut through the yard, down the road - followin' the other voices. Everythin' was lit up like it was day…"

He looked away then, back up to the sun, the trees. "Felt a hand yank on mah shirt and pull me sideways. It was mama. She… she was so scared. So upset Ah wasn't in the house, askin' where Jona was, askin' where Sylvia was, but then - then there was a shot. And she h-held me and we fell…"

Rhys rubbed the heels of his hands to his eyes then. He stooped down, crouching. "Mah head hurts, Sam," he whispered, fingers fanning into his own hair, tugging.

Guilt washed over Sam then. The beta stooped down, and after a bit of unsure hovering, wrapped his arm around Rhys. The omega didn't fight it. Rhys' hands stayed where they were, his shoulders turning inward. He was quivering. "Everythin' wound up gone…" he racked out, body quaking, senses reliving every sound and scent. "Fields, ma, e-everythin'..." Sam's arms could only tighten. Rhys had collapsed under his wall with dignity and grace. But now he was crumbled.

And they sat in the middle of the gravel road like that. Until Rhys stopped his shuddering. He went slack in Sam's arms. Realizing what he could have possibly touched on, the beta jostled the thinner blond around, until he had him scooped up and could walk the rest of the way to the nearest house.

It wound up being a long, reflective walk. Sam's mind was dredging up his times in hell, as if they were long gone, but the heat still kissed his heels. And everything else. There wasn't much of a knot in his throat for what he had done just then. He kept repeating the Latin phrase in his head, keeping watch over Rhys' fluctuating emotions. They were nearly acrid.

The vampires had brought hunters in with them. Now it was just a matter of what party was after what. And he knew that no matter the guilty party, it was what laid under The Tree.

Approaching a white cottage, Rhys' phone rang. Groaning, Sam stooped back down, flexing his fingers before he closed his eyes and withdrew it from the omega's pocket. Rhys merely mumbled, his hands finally leaving his hair to grip onto Sam's shirt. "Hello?" The beta gruffed out.

"... Who the hell is this?"

Sam rolled his eyes to the right. "Dean, it's me," he said, pinning the phone between shoulder and ear as he managed to stand again with his payload. "I'm not making it to the gate. I talked to Rhys. It didn't go well."

"Sonofabitch. Alright, where are you guys now?"

"I am awkwardly carrying him down a dirt road so anywhere."

" _Sammy."_

Sam growled softly. "Passing some kind of white cottage. No one's out, I think the Main House is coming up."

"Well you better be fast. Get Rhys in bed before Colin sees. Dude is lookin' for an excuse. Me and Garth are still at this gate. Odette's here, Cas'll-"

"-Arrive shortly."

Sam stumbled, nearly dropping Rhys and definitely the phone as Castiel appeared. "Not cool, dude!" Sam snapped.

Castiel, despite himself, couldn't help but smirk. He knew he had done something worthy of a laugh. He picked up the cellphone, speaking into it. "I'm here. I gave Sam a heart attack…! I thought that was the expression…? Well It was humorous." he hung up then, pocketed the phone, then went over to assist Sam.

"No, Cas, I got 'im," the younger Winchester said, shifting Rhys around so he was being carried more bridal-style. The omega whimpered, and Sam bit his lip.

Castiel held his hand over Rhys, before sighing through his nose. "Didn't take much, indeed."

"No," they began walking, and Sam piped, "What does _invenire murum_ mean?"

"... Find the Wall?" Castiel looked back at Sam quizzically.

Sam quickly filled Castiel in on what Rhys had been able to tell. "...So they came looking for some kind of wall," he shrugged a shoulder, then looked down at Rhys. He was out cold.

"Perhaps what is beneath Marin's Tree… is a pathway for the Fae."

Sam rolled his eyes, stopping to readjust Rhys. "I'm gonna get pummeled for this, I know it."

 

* * *

 

But in reality, it was Dean who did.

No sooner had Dean gotten near the front porch, Colin was kicking the front door open, jumping down them, and landing a punch square to Dean's jaw. Of course Odette and Garth shouted out, but it didn't matter. Colin's eyes were red, all she could do was dart in the house shouting while the two kicked up the dust from the walk path. Garth ducked behind a car. Just in case. There was no room and he had no gun.

Dean had been anticipating the fight, but not to have it then and there. It was a mess of growls, punches, but when Colin swept his leg out, Dean felt like someone had crowbarred his calf. He fell into the dirt, groaning.

Colin spat blood from his mouth, and Dean pushed himself up. "Look, not like we were aimin' to distress the damsel-"

"Shut yer fuckin' mouth!" Colin growled. His foot came down between Dean's shoulder blades, pinning him. And of course, he stooped down. "Y'had no right, yer damn brother neither."

Dean coughed, hands splaying out so his claws could dig into the dirt. He bucked, enough to send Colin off of him, roll over onto his back and gasp for air. "The hell are you packin', fuckin' raught-iron?"

Colin's eyes were golden and he was hungry. He ignored the question, instead snapping. "On yer feet. We ain't done."

Dean swallowed a come back, panting instead as he sat up. He didn't have anything to say. Wordless, he looked over at the house. Odette and Sam were standing on the porch, Sam's eyes a sharp yellow, body tense as he stared at Colin. Who had stalked over, grabbed Dean, and tossed him again - further from the house. Dean growled as he hit the ground, forcing himself up. His eyes were glowing now - he couldn't hold himself back for much longer.

"We don't talk 'bout that night," Colin growled. "We lost eighty-two to their twenty-three. That's with the hunters and vampires. Eighty- _two._ Rhys was fuckin' _eight_. You pressed the wrong one. But y'all don't ever leave shit alone, do ya?"

"Nah we're kinda in the business of shakin' skeletons out of closets…" Dean shot back.

He stalked towards Dean again, but Sam leaped down to stand between them. Colin, teeth stained with blood, grinned ferally. "Oh _please_ try me," he whispered. "You're who Ah'm really after."

Sam just squared his shoulders. "I thought he could handle it," he said, "I'm the one who broke that wall, okay? So leave Dean out of this. What, afraid a beta is gonna kick you on your feet?"

Colin tilted his head. "Ah only got one so what's it matter?" his expression turned hungry, and he raised his fist.

"Enough!"

Castiel was suddenly between them, pushing them both back. "This would not have happened if your people had been more open!" he snapped at Colin, who looked ready to eat the angel out of principal. He looked at Sam. "And _you_ knew better. You remember what Death did for you. What happened when that wall was broken."

Sam's jaw tightened. He simply backed up to help Dean to his feet. "I am tired already," Castiel continued, "This ends. Clearly your boundaries have been compromised. And we will be getting back to that tree to find more connections. And when we are done, and have sorted this, we will leave. But until then, try to keep these… wolfish behaviors in check."

Colin glared, and spat on the ground. "Maybe you oughta keep that Pontius Pilate shit upstairs," he growled, heading for the house. He stopped in front of Sam though, saying low. "You better make it right, _Sam._ "

Then it was up into the house, and slamming the door. Odette flinched, mouth still covered, and she looked at the Winchesters with a mix of apology and worry. Castiel looked to Odette, shoulders sagging some. "I will do what I can to fix the omega."

  
"No - no it's fine," Odette said, waving her hand some. "It's… it's done. Look, just… I'll handle Colin. He's probably gonna go off and hunt to cool down, and you guys can come in, then. I… I have to Rhys."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gaelic, translation: "Go carefully with a full cup"


	6. The Sins We Keep

**Chapter 6**

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

A day passed. Dean refused to stay at the Merritt homestead, choosing instead to bunk with Odette. Castiel, of course, followed. In the tense lull, the brothers and angel took stock of the problem that had them in Blue Ridge to start. The doe was found to have burns on the interior of her organs, blood having turned to sludge and everyone withered at the thought she might have had that pumping through her veins. Nothing more happened, and it took Dean two more days to realize why.

"Full Moon's comin' up in a week, right? Well, there ya have it. They're not going to make their move when we're all primed up."

He and Castiel were sitting with Odette on her front porch. She had no air-conditioning, and it was sweltering. But, there were the luxuries of the fans spinning overhead. She sat on the planks, divvying out various hexbags. Neither of the men were sure why. Odette was clear, full of intent of them. So they said nothing, choosing to watch her work.

"It makes sense," she agreed softly. Her words were measured, holding rigidity. 

Castiel sipped on his tea, looking over at Dean. Who, rolling his eyes, leaned forward in his seat. "Look, we apologized for… 'breaking' Rhys' wall. Sam's been bustin' his ass trying to make it up to Colin. Dude's out in a field right now doing god knows what-"

"Dean, just-" Odette dropped what she was doing, and closed her eyes for a moment. "You don't get it. It's hard, okay? And it barely has anything to do with what happened to Rhys. Well - it does, but it's more the message you sent."

Dean balked. "What message? We came in here to do a job, and Blondie was the only one willing to talk."

" _ Was _ he willing, though?" her eyes went sharp as she stared the alpha down. "When Garth comes through, he doesn't just barge in. He isn't some big honcho with a gun on his hip and a bigger brain than Nicodemus. He's had more luck getting people to talk, because he's been  _ respectful.  _ And then you guys just… just took what wasn't even offered. You want to know about that night? Cuz I can tell you. I wasn't here for it, but I know the story. We  _ all  _ know that story. It's the big bad wolf that haunts this place. But did you bother asking  _ me?  _ No. You guys have been acting like cops since you got here. Have you even, like, tried to enjoy the place?"

Dean leaned back, crossed his arms and simpered. Castiel sat his tea down. They sat there for a moment, before Castiel looked again at his lover. "She's right."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean waved Castiel off.

Odette let her shoulders sag a little. "Look, you guys aren't bad. You're even kind of fun when you let your hair down. But this is… a slow crawling threat, you know? And other than the welcome party where you had  _ no  _ problem enjoying the beer, you've been ridiculously on guard. But you guys have had no problem creeping around and waiting for something bad to happen and it's almost like you're waiting for  _ us  _ to bring the bad."

"Well this place  _ is  _ a little creepy," Dean defended. "All the niceness, how people don't lock their doors but then they won't look you in the eye-"

"Did I stutter?" Odette interrupted, now standing. "This was a place  _ meant  _ for that. The no locked doors, the niceties. Nevermind it's crawling with beings more than capable of banding together to defending something with more power than you could probably imagine. I'm sure Castiel here can sense it, though."

The angel simply nodded, and Odette took a breath to calm down. "Fuck whatever you guys brought with you, okay? Or whatever you've been through - which I'm sure is a  _ ton. _ You think everyone here is hunky-doory green-eyed and clean-handed?" she scoffed, grabbing up her hex bags. "I'm gonna go make some food. Sit and think about shit."

 

* * *

 

Sam had risen with the sun and gone out to check on Rhys' greenhouses. Whatever the omega's chores were, he had set about doing. That was the advice Odette had given him, anyway. All morning and into the afternoon, he knew he was being watched. The beta did his best to steer clear of Colin, even ducking into a field and flattening his body out. Praying the goldenrod hid his scent. The last thing he wanted to be doing was this kind of work - but he had understood that there was penance to be paid.

Standing up and yanking off his gloves, he surveyed the rows of vegetables beyond the hay. Squinting against the sun and the sweat, his eyes drifted back to the farm house. There had been pack members loitering about, no doubt keeping watch over their Leading Omega. It struck Sam as odd that they would hold him up to that pedestal, but Rhys wasn't entirely weak. Maybe it was because Colin wasn't mated. Still. It was worth noting. This pack operated in a natural sense that wasn't "natural" to the other packs he and Dean had encountered. Colin was in charge, Sam figured, merely as a formality due to his family's heritage to the place. And other than that, they had no real hierarchy...

His vision blurred, and the hunter raked his hand over his brow. The sun flared, he dropped his gloves. Thoughts faded into blank confusion. The breeze rolled over him, and he swore he could hear it again. " _ I am become air _ …" Sighed out. Haunting. And Sam looked back to the House.

The pack members had gone.

Cautious but unable to stop himself, he left the field and headed down the hill. Things had been quiet, but seemed more so. No real bird-sounds. No children running down the street, men laughing or the odd song. Just the weight of his footsteps on old creaking wood, and the swinging of the screen door. This meant much to the wolf - who heard the very heartbeat of his packmates. Absence of normal sound left a void.

A whisper darted around the entryway of the kitchen, unintelligible. Sam followed - through the living room, and up the stairs. He paused at the top, looking until at the left - an open door. He could smell Rhys, and another. 

Rhys was lying in bed, back to the door. His room was simple in decoration, but there were candles and a sigil Sam didn't recognize on the headboard. Sitting at the foot of the bed was Alma. Her hair pulled tight against her head, spilling down her back. She was watching Rhys, sunlight catching in slightly glowing eyes. Her hand was resting on his calf. 

The whispers stopped.  The disparate scent, forever hers.

Sam thought he had intruded, but before he could step back, she spoke. "Stay." Like a bell tolling.

Wiping his hands on his jeans, Sam awkwardly walked in. As he came around the bed to sit a nearby chair, he caught sight of Rhys' face. He was sleeping, but occasionally his brow would furrow. He looked pale. Something plagued.

The beta gulped, looking at Alma. An instinct just came off of her he couldn't put a finger on, but knew he didn't like it. "Do you know what I do, Sam?" she asked softly, "I  _ heal _ . From small like a gash to large like a bullet wound, broken bone… even broken  _ souls… _ " he eyes landed on Sam, as if she could see the hard work it would take to fix him. The lengths Death had went to. The lengths the young man himself had trekked. "But  _ always _ , at a  _ price _ . That is the way of my magic."

Sam's eyebrow arched. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Well, you and your brother want answers, correct?" her gaze swung back to Rhys. ".. Do you know he was born here?" she sighed, as if remembering something fond. "He was a light, carried something in him that we all knew would matter greatly to this place. He would carry on the tradition as if it were etched in every cell of his being. And on  _ that  _ night, it was stripped away. The sacrifice it would have taken to restore it was only payable due to this young man's parents."

Sam swallowed a knot in his throat, not unable to look at the blonde laying there, ignorant to their presence. "I get it that a lot of bad things happened. Terrible things. I just - I didn't expect it to have…"

"Mattered so much?" her eyes caught Sam's. "You and your brother have seen far too much. Done too much. But that is no excuse to be cold. You acted out of impatience and arrogance. Two things not easily maintained here…

"I gave Rhys his wall to ensure that he would be able to be what he was meant to be. And now…" Alma shook her head, shrugged a shoulder. "I might as well have let him become air."

"What?" Sam snapped, looking at her with wide, suspicious eyes.

Alma looked back at him, sitting a bit straighter. "I said -  _ I might as well have let him become air.  _ Are you okay, Sam?"

The beta rose slowly, shaking his head. "No, I feel a headache coming on."

"Lie," Alma blurted. Her hand shot out, wrapped around his wrist.

Instantly, Sam froze. Felt his mind clear. The fae healer rose, standing surprisingly tall next to the Winchester. Her eyes were glowing, trapping him in a staring match. "You hear it," her words were soft and coaxing.

Sam balked. "I - I don't know what you're talking about."

" _ The whispers. _ "

He wanted to look away. Wanted to look down, out, run. She had him though, had him in a trap no other being had ever successfully pulled off. "How do you know about them?" he asked shakily, trying to pull away.

Her fingers must have been steel. Alma said nothing, silence stretching on for what felt hours. At the corners of his vision, things began to blur. Sam swore he saw wisps peeking through - creeping into his field of sight. Then, she slowly let go.

"Your grandfather heard them, too," she said, "Henry. A Man of Letters. They led him to here, and further on to many, many things."

Blinking and taking a step back, Sam wasn't sure what had happened. Had he been assaulted? Calmed? Claimed? Possessed? 

"Many things he could not handle without assistance." Alma added. "Rebuild your bridges, Sam. Or the whispers will keep you."

With that, she sat back down, returning to her posted vigil. Sam's nostrils flared when he came back around, turning to face her. Alma looked up at him, almost expectant of something. 

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but balked instead. "I… I don't-" Stopping himself, he looked around the room for anything to ground himself with. "What are they? The uh, the whispers…"

"Fae," she said simply. "I suppose they are like what you would know as non-physical entities. They are very real - lost in this world because they wish to be back in Acadia. I believe they came with me, but I only heard them once. On the journey that led me here. I  _ also _ believe that we are lucky in that they only ever reach out in times of struggle to give aid."

"So… why am I hearing them?" Sam asked, hands akimbo as he huffed out his confusion. 

Her gaze turned back to Rhys, and her hand went to rest on his calf again. "That I do not know, Samuel. I can only give you caution. You are not fae, and our magic is mischievous…" sighing, she rose slowly. "Sit with him for a while. Until the rest of the pack returns. He should not be alone."

Before he could ask why him, god why him, Alma was walking around him and out of the room. Sam staggered, falling back into the nearest chair as he just looked around the room. Breathing heavy, mind trying to wrap around the past few minutes minutes. He wanted to find his brother, but couldn't get his legs to move. His hands gripped the armrests, and he raked his hair back. 

Fay wisps. Talking to him. And he could wind up in trouble for not even asking to hear them.

Smoothing his hands down his face, the beta swallowed hard. "It's fine, this is fine," he told himself quietly. "Nothing you can't handle. Just sit here a while, wait for Colin, and run like hell."

"Dunno, Colin's fast."

Snapping out of it, Sam looked over to see Rhys away. His eyes were hooded, but open. Sitting forward, the beta didn't know what to do. "H-how are you feeling?"  _ dumbest question, Winchester.  _

_  
_ Rhys' brow arched a little, and he snorted. "'M alright," he drawled, curling up a little more. "What're you doin' up here?"

"Uh - Alma she uh, told me to sit with you until someone got back," Sam nodded, looking away. " _ Yeah." _

"That's gotta be awkward for ya," Rhys said, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Hah, not the most awkward thing, though," Sam said with an uneasy laugh. "I'm surprised you haven't thrown anything at me. If I were you I would have chased me out by now… Rhys I'm… I'm sorry," Sam said. "I know that doesn't account for anything, or make anything better, just -"

"Sam…" the omega sighed, tipping his head back some as he stretched. 

Sam bit his lip, sitting more forward in the chair. "I mean it," he said softly. "I uh… I went to hell and back,  _ literally _ . I was trapped there with  _ the  _ Lucifer. The wall was put up to keep some of the things that happened to me back and when it fell apart - it  _ fell apart.  _ Every second of torture, being stuck down there, it just - I know what you're going through - the confusion and the migraines and the-"

"Ah can see her face, now."

Rhys' soft interruption was followed by him looking at Sam. Who was confused by the statement. "Mama's. Ah never could remember her. An' we don't keep up pictures of her and dad…" he looked away. Shrugged a shoulder slightly. "Ah just keep thinkin' about that more than the other stuff. Guess Ah got mah childhood shit back. Ah remember her, before. Smilin', singin' while she walked us to the pavilion for events, the stories she'd read us… no details, but..."

Sam didn't bother to continue his story. He had a feeling Rhys wasn't up to it, and hearing the other's take was baffling as much as it was reassuring. He wasn't at all sure how Rhys could conclude like that - but then he remembered what Alma said. The blond blinked slowly, stretching before he curled back up. "... Hey, anyone been checkin' on my greenhouses?"

Sam saw a flicker of bright return in Rhys' eyes when he mentioned the plants. So, he saw an opportunity to earn some goodwill. "Yeah, uh… heh, I was actually just down there. Weeding, patchin' a few things up for you. Mostly trying  _ not  _ to hurt any of the plants. Those uh, tomatoes - the purple ones? They're comin' in…"

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

Sam spoke with Rhys for about an hour. It helped - Rhys even laughed when Sam told him how he became tangled up in ivy while he was clearing it off the side of a house. And about how he fixed one of the shaky tables. He left feeling like there might be room for forgiveness. And then it was straight to Odette's.

He got to the cottage to find Castiel and Odette pouring over books and Dean grumbling on the sofa out of boredom. Garth was on the floor flipping through a book as well. Bursting through the door, startling everyone, he held up his hands. "It's the fae. All-all the fae. Whatever is out there l-leaving the dead birds and the-the-the deer - it's coming for the fae!"

"Sam, relax!" Dean said, up on his feet. "The hell happened while you were playin' Amish?"

Odette threw a pen at Dean while Sam composed himself. "Look, I bumped into Alma. She was up with Rhys and she told me about these things, these 'whispers'. Like, they're fae - but non-physical. And they're swirling around this place  _ contacting  _ people because something about they want to go home and there's danger and -" he shook his head and waved his hands. "Point is that I realized it wasn't vampires at all. Hunters, probably - but definitely not vampires."

"Then what else?" Castiel asked slowly.

"... Ooooh, oooh shit," Odette sat up straighter, her eyes wide. Sam looked at her, and nodded. "Other fae."

"What? Seriously?"

"No, no it make perfect sense," Odette said, rising and going to grab a few old books.

"... Fae do believe that the supernatural of our realm were borne from what they refer to as 'changelings'," Garth added, hands moving as he spoke. "Changelings are half-fae - they escaped over the Hedge eons ago. They even believe that 'God' -"

"Chuck," Dean corrected. Garth waved him off. "Whatever. They even believe God is fae, and all of the angels, demons, in-betweens, they're changelings as well. All really fascinating. But that could be why everyone thought it was vampires. Coulda been fae being chased by hunters, but they weren't about to give up."

"And Latin is an old tongue," Castiel sighed. "It is one of the few left intact when the Tower of Babel fell. That and, well, Sumerian."

Odette returned with a book, which they all gathered around. "Fae don't come after each other like how The Darkest Night went down. See? Look, the last recorded instance even remotely like that was back in 1547, in Spain. Witches were pitted against ghouls by the fae.  _ The fae still didn't fight each other.  _ The power's too much for this plain. They use others..."

"... Well, not twenty years ago," Dean sighed out. He went into the kitchen to get a few beers. "Alright, so we just, what, do some homework, figure out what makes 'em weak, and prepare for the worst. There could be… 'changelings' instead of the runofthemill crazy.

Garth rubbed his face and groaned. "Dangit, that could mean anything is coming for us. Types of Fae number in the hundreds."

"But we do know they have vampiric traits," Sam clarified. "So… we start there. Vampire weaknesses, and then the fae ones. Prep for those."

"... Iron, are they not weak to iron?" Castiel quipped. "We need iron."

"And salt," Odette interjected, sitting uncomfortably when the three turned to look at her.

"So… like…  _ casper _ ?" Dean suggested, looking around the group.

"No, I doubt that." Castiel argued. "But she just said salt and you said iron so-"

"Guys!" Garth snapped, before looking back to Odette.

The young woman sighed, and held her head in her hands. "If it is other fae then we risk hurting the fae that live here, y'all."

"And we will help them when it's over," Garth said gently. "I'll stay behind as long as I have to  until things get put together. You know I would… So, what else could we use?"

"I mean… that's about it," Odette said, looking up. "Iron, a  _ lot  _ of salt, some spells can contain them but other than shiny objects - I mean, have you seen how many sequins some of these people wear?" she scoffed. "They love shiny crap. It's a distraction but it's not going to kill them."

"... So. Back to iron." Sam sighed, sitting down. "And we'll have to round up Aspen stakes…" He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "At least Rhys is awake now."

Dean's brow knit. "Wait, how do you know  _ that?"  _ His eyes widened then. "Did you go and see him? What did you do, climb the ivory tower while Colin was stalking around the top field?!"

"No, it wasn't like that…" Sam groaned.

Castiel looked around them all, and shrugged. "But he spoke to Sam. That should boost good morale when it comes to our being here."

Odette groaned and rolled her eyes. They were doomed.

 

* * *

 

Dean didn't expect the trip for iron would involve him bouncing in his seat in a rickety truck with none other than Colin. Neither were keen to the idea. It was the only option. Sam had his debts and weird insistence on speaking with Rhys when the blonde would allow. Castiel and Odette were pouring over tomes while Garth. Colin drew a short straw.

So here they were. Tight despite the space between them. Staticky music coming from the radio. Staticky  _ country.  _

Weirdly though, it was Colin who spoke first. "This is gonna be a big order at the scrapyard. Only got three thousand."

"Well I have plastic, so I think we're good," Dean mumbled, shifting in his seat. 

"Mmm." The alpha reached around before finding a cigarette and a lighter out of his pack. "Ah reached out to a couple other packs. Reinforcements. Figure it can't hurt."

"Nope." 

Then dead air. They tried, but the tension choked out the oxygen in the truck. Dean just didn't have time for it. "Okay, I gotta friggin' ask - when we were kicking each other's asses and you kicked me why did it hurt so bad?"

Colin snorted. "Cuz you had it comin', Dean. "

Dean growled."No, dipstick, I mean like  _ why.  _ Are you people half-steel or something?"

"Just a fifth," Colin mused, before turning them into the scrapyard. 

Backing the truck up, they then exited and looked around. There wasn't anyone around. Colin strolled around as if that wasn't an issue. So, Dean meandered as well. In time, they began to find bits and pieces. Digging through one pile, Dean kept glancing at the other alpha. Questions and thoughts alike were swarming his mind. And he wasn't they type to keep them to himself when situations gave room.

"You know… if it's fae comin' for fae," Dean started, hefting the door of a refrigerator out of his way. "Don't you think bringin' in other packs will just give the fae in the ridge time to bow out of the fight?"

Colin grunted dismissively. So Dean carried on. "Don't get me wrong - we wolves are some primo lucha libres. Just don't see the fae being active participants is all. Given the history Odette bored us with the other night, just seems they wouldn't."

"Well if they can't fight what's it matter if they don't?" Colin grumbled. He straightened up, clearly bristled. "You sayin' they'd abandon The Ridge? That what yer gettin' at?"

Dean held up his hands, one holding a chunk of metal before he tossed it into a nearby wheelbarrow with a clank. "Sayin' they won't get involved when it's clearly their shit that's got you all in this 'little predicament'." 

"Yeah, well, that ain't gonna happen," Colin chucked a fractured piece of something into the wheelbarrow with added force. "Alma won't let it. She can't leave, they won't leave her."

Dean's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

Colin sighed, closing his eyes in a tight, slow blink. "Cuz she's damn near shackled to that Hedge. Keeps her off yer  _ god's  _ radar. And if all the others did go, she'd be enough to represent."

He didn't like Dean's conversation at all. The idea of the fae leaving wasn't possible. They were too interwoven. They kept the crops flush, the weather pristine. And in return… the rest of them paid it forward. Colin didn't want to explain that to Dean - he didn't deem him worthy of that knowledge.

But Dean was studying Colin, taking in the irritation and the body language. "You have to think about that," he said slowly, carefully, but taking control of the conversation as best as he could. "All scenarios, right? Gotta have a plan for the back-up plan to the back-up-back-up plan."

Colin said nothing, instead going over to the wheelbarrow. "Gonna put this in the truck," he grumbled, leaving Dean to put his hands akimbo and look up at the sky.

The brunette bit his lip to withhold a sigh, and looked up at the clear sky above him. He wasn't looking forward to dying in hillbilly country.

"It's a balancin' act, Dean," Colin's random words drew Dean back to the now. "Y'all musta learned that by now, with all yer snoopin'. So all the... back-ups for the back-ups," he waved a hand. "They gotta keep that. So yeah,we gotta have 'em. But if you can't think big enough to keep the shit at play solid by the end of it - yer just not gonna plan it right at all."

"Alright then, General - what's your suggestion?" 

Colin smirked, leaned against his truck and shrugged a shoulder. "You keep that gun in your pocket. Ya got enough knives in yer maw anyway."

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

 

And with that, Colin didn't speak for the duration of the scavenger hunt.

 

They returned to The Ridge to find nothing too out of place. The moon rose high - three days to go until it would be full. In a spirit of excitement for a potential upcoming fight, the pack decided to go for a group run. Dean and Sam, invited and nearly obligated, joined. It started with a bonfire at the Merritt house, and the brothers watched the odd ritual the other wolves used to get themselves prepared. Music was playing, and several were sparring off while others amped themselves up. That was what it was - revving the engine. And Colin walked among them laughing and stoically waiting for the right moment. Dean couldn't deny that it felt good to do a bit of fighting. Took the edge off of the powderkeg building in his mind. 

Sam clung to the background. He nursed a beer, the energy building taking a different effect. He was watching, learning, spotted Aaron on the porch talking to Rhys and felt his stomach lurch. What was Rhys doing out of bed? His smile was half-mast, but the omega seemed in good spirits. Sam noticed there were several other from the community as well. Nonwolves, watching on as if a show was on display. It was unclear if they saw it as spectacle or insight.

Sam wasn't sure what the cue was, but when the music stopped abruptly, all eyes fell on the Colin. The alpha smiled, and extended his hand out to his brother. Rhys looked here and there, braced his hands on the railing, and cleared his throat. The howl that came from him was shaky, but grew in volume and depth. With a smile, Colin threw his head back and joined. It was loud, low in tenor, and got you to the bone. Others joined in.

In the noise, the pack broke and headed from the bonfire. Mid-stride, clothes shredded or were thrown off. Limbs broke and snapped into something leaner, hairier. The Winchesters fumbled to join and keep up, not wanting to be left out or judged. Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd transformed and neither could his brother.

Into the dark, into the woods, paws dug into dirt and leaves. Broadening and breaking off into the territory. Realizing he was far from the others, Dean trotted down to a slow jog. Then, he stopped, panting and peering around. He couldn't smell his brother nearby, not that he was concerned. 

Heading upward and over a hill, Dean enjoyed spooking a few sheep before he headed back into the wild. There were just enough smells to have his brain darting in all directions. Smelling other wolves, though, the alpha paused. Let out a small growl of caution. Out from the fringe appeared two brown wolves - one relatively large, the other not so much. And behind them came a third - three legged, sized in-between. Dean relaxed somewhat as the smaller wolf, tail wagging, approached and licked his neck. Then it darted off. The other two were quick to follow suit, and so did Dean, trying to figure out which one of the blue ridge wolves had such a deformity. The wolf didn't see hampered by it - just as quick if not a little less agile.

Elsewhere, Sam was walking along a game trail. Finding evidence of deer, he followed that, and found himself riding a steep part of the ridge. Nose burying into the dirt, claws scratching, it was decent entertainment. So decent, he didn't quite notice where the path had led him until it registered there was water. Looking up, the glade was a babbling spring. Fresh and clear, racing down towards the larger streams. Rocks with moss, glistening under the light of the sky.

And glowing orbs.

They lazily hung in the air, swirling with no true direction. They were a sickly shade of teal. Looking around, Sam chuffed and walked carefully to the edge of the water. The closer he got, the quicker the orbs seemed to move. He could hear something in them,but before more could be learned, they vanished. Suddenly in a darker night, Sam yelped and whipped around. His sharp bark was enough to bring Dean clambering through the brush minutes later. 

Unable to speak, the bothers assured the other all was well, and they headed back to the rest of the pack and ran through the night. There must have been sixty wolves at the peak of the wild run.

 

When the sun rose, and everyone had gathered back at the house, they were one short. 

 

* * *

 

 

  
  
  



End file.
